BORDERLESS: Two Halves of the Truth
by Shelanoir no Mori
Summary: No matter what the consequences are, it's always the truth that is hurt the most.


**Moon-Dash: **My first romance-unrelated fic. This time I'm telling the story from Allen's POV, since he seems to be the most suitable character to be the narrator ^^

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to DGM. All I have is this penname and this not-so-creative plot T.T

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 **BORDERLESS: Two Halves of the Truth ******

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_Let me tell you about a strange serial killer._

_Do you know anything about the prisoner, a notorious assassin, who'd escaped from jail a few days ago, and the police were looking for him?_

_He was found dead last night, in an alley._

_Many parts of his body were twisted so violently that they separated themselves from the body and scattered like pieces of junk._

_Mysterious, huh? No human can commit such a cruel murder. Especially when various other escaped prisoners were found dead exactly the same way just in a night._

_Just in this city though._

_This is certainly no ordinary killer. A bloodthirsty beast, indeed._

_The only thing is this person only kills criminals that are sentenced death. He's like an executor that hides in the dark._

_The government is still arguing over his intentions and disregard for the laws._

_There are two factors to consider: His punishment of the criminals, already decided by the courts, and his reckless massacre, a crime itself._

_Still, there's a contradiction._

_How did he kill all of those criminals, not by any mean of weapon known to human beings?_

_Is he really a human being?_

_Or is it a demon that's trying to obtain the reminiscent senses of "Death" and "murder"?_

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 **oblivious ******

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Damn.

They follow me. Everywhere.

Everytime I get on the streets, I can feel for sure their hungry gaze making the hair behind my neck stand.

Their creepiness… Their hunger… Their miasma…

Those are all so annoying.

I start to run.

I run pass the old café, then the flower shop, past the streams of people roaming like shadows, pass the construction site on the street, then several lanes, then another crowded street.

I even run pass my home. I'm still wondering why I can leave the supposedly best shelter for me in this kind of life-threatening situation behind.

I keep running, knowing that people are looking at me like I was an alien. Despite that awkwardness, if I don't run, they'll catch me.

Why on the nine worlds are those demons only after me?

And why am I the only person able to see and run away from them?

The monsters are flying after me. Yes, flying. Only I can see the dark clouds formed by those hungry beasts, darting about like a tremendous typhoon.

Suddenly I trip, and soon a bone-crushing weight is laid on my back.

I'm caught.

I shut my eyes, praying for my death to be less painful than I expect. I can hear the shrieks and howls of the demons on my back, and I know that my struggles won't work.

Suddenly I hear a swishing sound, and the weight on my back disappears.

I roll around.

Those monsters…

Have all disappeared.

I frantically look around, and stare at my own hands. I can still see them, not transparent like how a spirit's should be.

I'm still alive.

I stand up and wipe the dust off my uniform.

What just happened?

I look around, and widen my eyes.

I know this place.

There it is, the old abandoned Western-style mansion with its generally creepy atmosphere. The residence has been known as "haunted" to me ever since I started going to kindergarten, and as a matter of fact, no one has dared to buy the beautiful house, going to great lengths to avoid it. Sometimes I wonder if the monsters that always chase me come from this mansion, but I was pursued once during a visit to England, and obviously the monsters couldn't have flown to my place that fast. I'm too familiar with their speed anyway.

What the heck is going on today?

I ran pass this place, and the monsters disappeared.

I stare at the mansion carefully, only to find that the building looks exactly the same as usual.

Still… It's mysterious.

I sigh contentedly, and start walking home when my feet suddenly change their course, and my whole body is turned around unintentionally. It's like someone has turned me around and is pushing me towards the abandoned mansion…

Wait a minute…

Towards the mansion?

No!

I struggle, but the force is still pushing me to the metal gate.

My feet aren't even lifted from the ground!

"What the-?! Let me go, let me go!"

No one is around.

I'm helpless.

The gate is opening. And no one is pulling it.

"Let me go!"

The force stops pushing when I've entered the front yard.

Strangely, I feel perfectly safe.

To tell the truth, the front yard is beautiful. There are blue and pink hydrangeas blossoming elegantly along the concrete path that leads to the main entrance of the building. One strange thing is that aside from hydrangeas, there is no other kind of flower planted.

Many questions race inside my mind as I walk towards the main entrance cautiously.

I know that there's someone living inside this "abandoned" mansion.

The door automatically opens. It creeps me out when no one is opening it. Since this place has probably been around since the Edo era, there couldn't be any automatic equipment installed in this residence. I nearly jump out of my skin hearing the door closing behind my back. I don't want to turn back, for if I see a ghost, I'll definitely faint.

Gulping nervously, I slowly walk to the carpeted staircase in the middle of the main hall. Everything looks perfect and elegant, for I can see elaborate carvings on the walls and the ceiling, and a glass-like lighting fixture that sparkles like golden crystal. The house looks like the home for the monarchy – for perhaps an obvious reason I like to comment this way.

Standing between two corridors for a brief moment, I decide to turn right. I wonder why I've chosen this way, because I don't usually rely on my instincts. At least there are just two corridors so that if there's nothing appealing along the way, I can return to the starting line and take the left turn.

Somehow I feel I can trust my instincts completely.

Weird… I feel completely safe inside this so-called "haunted" mansion. Sure, it's nice, warm and clean, but the general belief that this house is dominated by supernatural beings has already been imprinted deeply in my mind. So no matter how much I try to tell myself that there's nothing to be scared of, my body still shakes slightly, and I find myself gulping a few times as I walk along the corridor.

As I turn right, I notice that I'm walking along the corridor that allows me to see the street. The view looks quite different from inside the mansion. I'm not surprised by the differences; it's just that I didn't realize that it can be _this_ different. Usually I see the roofs that hide away the sun, but this time, it's actually the sun itself which dominates the view by the golden streaks of dawn. I also realize that the houses don't look that inconspicuous to me anymore; in fact, they look like block-shaped creatures dwelling in a deep sleep. Things look alive seen from the windows, like a living creature savouring its own breaths and heartbeats…

Noticing something as I pass a room along the way, I take a few steps backwards.

My body stiffens.

On the armchair in the middle of the room can I see the silhouette of a man. A young man, probably still in his late teens, is gazing at me calmly, with his left cheek resting on his left palm. The golden light of dawn cast upon him creates the deep shade for his blood-red hair, and only one of his emerald eyes is visible. His dark grey, short-sleeved T-shirt decorated with silver-white hems, which is purportedly worn as a jacket, reveals the long sleeves of the inner black turtleneck, which color is the same with the jeans and the calf-length leather boots. The only thing I feel so strange is the black leather half-mask that he wears over his right eye, from which exudes a conspicuous cold air.

Now there's absolutely no doubt that this mansion has an owner.

I'm really in serious trouble.

"What burden brings you here?" He asks me with a mildly interested tone. I wince a bit, expecting various kinds of trouble I'll have to endure as a so-called intruder. It clearly wasn't my fault that I've ended up wandering around this mansion anyway; I have already told you about an invisible force pushing me inside, haven't I?

I remain speechless for a while as my mind is too busy fighting against the overwhelming panic, while at the same time trying to find words to form a suitable answer. "I-I'm so sorry!" I blurt out the sentence nervously and bow low as an apologizing gesture. "I-I didn't mean to enter your residence without your permission!"

I look up and see the host blinking, his smile widened a bit. "Well, I didn't ask you to apologize, didn't I?" I can spot rather natural amusement beaming at me in his voice. "I've just asked you why you are here. Only someone who wants to seek for the truth can enter this mansion, you see."

Honestly, I'm really beaten by confusion. "Seek… for the truth?" I repeat the words, perplexed. "…Oh, right! I was just thinking about whether this mansion was really haunted or not. If that was the 'truth' you have talked about…"

"And now you know that the rumor is indeed false," he replies with a slight chuckle. "However, a lesser reason for you to be here is because the mansion is attracted to you."

I inadvertently repeat his words again. "A-Attracted? To me?"

He stands up from the armchair and walks toward my place. "Everything in the universe has their own existence," he uses his fingertips to lift my face. "Animals, plants, furniture…" His emerald orb meets my gaze. "Air, mortality, impulse…" His voice becomes gradually quieter. "Even death… Needless to say, humans." He withdraws his hand and takes a step backwards. "Some existences can attract others, of course unintentionally. Apparently, your existence attracts those demons, which always try to consume your life, and even the existence of this mansion is attracted to you, you see." He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "To explain it accurately, it's because of the 'Altered Soul Morphogenesis,' which means that there were occurences of indirect sorcery or presences of spirits during your soul's formation, so that your soul developed the ability of attracting 'existences.' Or to put it simple, you're intrinsically a spirit magnet, so that the spirits of things inside this house are attracted to your spirit, that's all."

I'm starting to feel overwhelmed. "W-What do you mean… Spirit magnet? Attracted to my spirit?" I ask again, knowing that I'm not being polite.

"Just understand that, like I've said, you're a living magnet," he returns to his armchair. "Humans think that spirits, or souls, can keep their thoughts and actions independent from others', so they draw a conclusion that objects like furniture or buildings don't have a life. However, you've already known that this house is attracted to you because of the ability developed from your 'Altered Soul Morphogenesis,' right?" He starts rocking on the chair like a kid. "So that means that even so-called 'lifeless' things, like tables, chairs, or even abstract things like intention and sanity, have their own spirits, too. How you link my explanations together, I don't care."

My eyebrows are kept raised until realization strikes me hard. "Oh, right," I laugh sheepishly. "Kind of confusing, but it's quite… clear to me now. So… sorry to bother you." I bow again, and suddenly feel the host moving again, this time toward the drawer to my right.

"I don't want to repeat that it's not your fault, Walker-kun," he takes the white and gold teapot and pours the liquid inside into a cup from the same tea set. "So please stay here and have some tea. We still have a lot to talk about."

"Yes, thanks a l- Wait, how did you know my name?"

"Allen Walker, isn't it?" He hands me the teacup and its saucer. "No big deal. I'm the keeper of the truth, after all."

'The keeper of the truth?' I raise my eyebrows again, but take the teacup nonetheless. He still takes his seemingly favorite armchair while I settle myself on the comfortable sofa across the table. Relaxing on the soft cushion, I can get a brief idea about why the redhead seems to prefer the armchair, whose cushion seems to be not as soft, because the host must bring their guests the best convenience possible.

But seriously, I don't think I'm really a guest when he has to explain everything for me.

"I haven't introduced myself, have I?" He keeps beaming brightly. "How rude I am. So now… I'm Lavi. Nice to meet you, Walker-kun."

"Nice to meet you, too, Lavi." I respond to his raised hand by shaking it gently. "By the way… Just Lavi?"

"Yup! Just Lavi!" He chirps childishly. "I don't feel the need to have a family name, not at all. I'm no human, after all."

He takes another sip of his tea, while my eyebrow is raised a little higher. I don't quite understand why he declares himself "no human," though. Many questions race through my mind as I observe him carefully, and somehow I guess that his hidden right eye is the reason that results in his distinction from normal humans.

"…Oh." I feel confusion dancing and cheering somewhere around me for its successful trigger of ambiguity, and the redhead's attitude confuses me even more. I haven't met anyone who seems to know about spiritual things so well like that, and furthermore, he seems to have somehow been able to foretell my visit, since he isn't treating me unfamiliarly. I hope that this will turn out well…

"It looks like you're troubled," Lavi puts his teacup on the table. "Don't worry. I won't harm you, and as long as you stay here, you're safe from the demons."

"Eh?" I'm surprised that he can read my mind so well. "N-No! Uhm… I-I mean… Yes, since you seem to be welcoming to me, it means that you have good intentions, and I know that there are no demon inside the mansion…"

The redhead narrows his gaze. "How can you know that I have good intentions?" He knits his fingers and rests his chin on the entwined hands. "What if I have no intentions at all? Or what if it's _you_ who really has the intentions himself?"

I gulp at the question. "W-What do you mean?"

"Wasn't it you who wanted to know whether this mansion was haunted or not?" He quickly points out his idea. "So the truth is you really wanted to enter the mansion to find the answer for your question. It's your intention to enter this residence, regardless of the force that pushed you inside." He takes another sip of tea. "Your intention is the main reason why you're here, and why you can see me. The force which has pushed you here has followed the intention which you didn't consciously notice, and that's why you didn't know why you were pushed inside."

The words take a while to sink in. "So that's why…" I mutter as the moment is replayed inside my mind.

"One more thing," he points his index finger up in emphasis. "The reason for you to constantly get chased by the demons is that you unconsciously keep wondering whether they will chase you again or not. If you change your question into 'Will they _stop_ chasing me?', you'll possibly escape from their grip." He chuckles for no reason. "It's like when you have to do a difficult assignment. If you think that you can do it, then you can do it. However, if you think the opposite, then no matter how hard you try, you'll never be able to work as well as when you have an optimistic attitude." His chuckle gets quieter, and he lets himself fall backwards onto the backrest. "The demons' behaviors are somewhat influenced by their target's attitude, you see."

I suddenly feel like a really stupid brat. At first I'd developed many thoughts about the reason why I was chased, even suggestions of curses and charms, or that I was just going insane. Now it's clear that it's just my pessimism which has been troubling me all along.

"Don't worry about what I just said," Lavi keeps beaming to me. "It wasn't you who intentionally thought pessimistically. I did say that your thoughts at that time were unnoticeable, didn't I?"

His ability of telepathy doesn't surprise me anymore, instead it mildly cheers me up. At least I understand that a part of his intentions to keep me here is to change my attitude and my view on things. Now I understand why the atmosphere of the mansion is so peaceful and comfortable inside, and why the scenery viewed from the windows looks more beautiful and lively…

Wait a minute, then what's the other part of the reason for him to keep me here?

"There's no such thing as 'coincidence,' Walker-kun," Lavi pours some more tea into his cup. "There's just 'inevitability' that exists between things. It's OK if your pessimism goes along with your intention, even though they're seemingly unrelated."

I'm kind of confused about the reason for him to keep his distinctive smile throughout the conversation, as if he thinks everything before him is just a mere game… No, as if we're both players in a game of ambiguity and abstract quizzes, and I've been the questioner and he the answerer ever since the game started. No, I'm not the questioner, but the one who fails to answer almost all of the questions. Still, at least most of the confusion has been cleared up, and he's stated a possible resolution for my being-chased-by-demons problem, whose goal doesn't seem to be a meal made from my flesh but the weakening pessimism which has indirectly influenced my supposed-to-be independent thoughts.

"I need a Contractor."

I blink not getting what he just said. "P-Pardon me?"

"I said that I need a Contractor," he repeats his request coherently. "This mansion is programmed like a barrier to prevent normal living beings from entering, and me from leaving." He pours some tea into my cup as I finish my treat. "Anyone who can attract the mansion is considered suitable for the 'Contract,' and apparently, it's you who's chosen." I hear the clatter as the teapot is put back on the table. "Only with a Contractor can I leave this residence and continue my hunt for 'Deception,' you see."

"Who, no, _what_'s this 'Deception' that you're talking about?" I ask strangely confidently, although a question is raised in the back of my mind: 'Why does this sound so familiar?'.

His smile fades gradually, and his gaze turns into a stern and more serious one. My eyebrows are lowered into a deep frown as I examine his expression carefully, only to find something similar to a mixture of worry, hatred and pleading.

"The complete opposite of me."

My frown becomes less deep as I slowly get his idea, and the previous question deep inside my mind is finally answered. "Wait, you're the opposite of 'Deception'…So that means you're…"

He suddenly bursts out laughing, like somehow his intention has been satisfied. "A Crusader, of course," he says what I think is the most explanable answer. "To tell the truth, I've expected a faster answer from a friend of a shinshoku," then his smile returns to his face, indicating that my thoughts are indeed right. "But seriously, the books there are a little bit too general about us… So I suppose that you might know why I need a Contractor to find it."

I slowly remember the lesson about Crusaders that one annoying shinshoku has given in a "beautiful" Sunday morning. "Indeed I do. He's spent nearly two hours lecturing me about that," I reply not wanting to remember the aggravating moment. "…Wait, you know him?"

"A keeper of the truth must collect information about his potential Contractor before making a Contract with that person." For a brief second I develop a thought that Lavi is surprisingly identical to a living encyclopedia. "I just researched about a few of your primary relationships, like your family, your relatives and your best frien-"

"There's no way in the nine worlds that he's my _best_ friend," I let out a growl, obviously offended. "You should correct it as the _worst_ friend ever existed in the world of mortals."

I can see him trying to suppress laughter at my comment. "I said so because you seem to be the closest friend to him. It seems like he also sees you as his best friend so as to give you such a detailed lecture about the Crusaders and Contracts and stuffs."

My mind clicks again as the unwanted memory is replayed. "So what do you think is the reason for him to keep insulting me?"

His single eye glint briefly. "I searched for information about you and him also. Perhaps you might not expect me to answer that question, because the truth is always somewhat harsh." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "Anyway, from now on, you're my Contractor. Your job is to help me locate the trace of 'Deception' around the city, and if possible, foretell its physical appearance as well."

I'm certain that I can understand my job, but the way he uses the words "trace" and "its" somehow reminds me of an animal like a cat or a dog. "S-Sure. So when will I start my job?"

"Now," he announces rigidly. "Whenever you sense 'Deception,' I'll appear immediately to kill it. I don't care wherever you are, or what kind of situation you're in at that moment. My mission is to destroy 'Deception,' no matter what the consequences are. I guarantee your chance of survival, but obviously not mine."

My heart falls at the statement. "W-Why? It's not fair!" I raise my voice in emphasis. "You mean that you have to work so diligently and your reward is a chance of meeting Death?"

"I'm a mortal, too. I live long just because this body is only a doll," he says like trying to be reassuring. "And before my creator released me into this mansion, I've challenged Death countless times. So there's nothing to be depressed about if I die. Got it," he stands up and taps my shoulder, "Comrade?"

I'm stunned at his relentless bravery and confidence. A person who doesn't show any fear to Death, a person who's encountered Death so many times that he's lost count… That seems to be my first impression of the redheaded Crusader. His words has somehow successfully enhanced my spirit and encouraged me to believe in my optimism. Saying that he's, from now on, my role model isn't wrong at all.

"Got it," I repeat his words, but as an answer. "…Comrade."

---

_Once upon a time, there was a space where the bottom was the same as the top._

_A place where the water, found both at the top and the bottom, always rippled even without the rain._

_There was a tiny monarch butterfly that kept floating above the water, staring absent-mindedly at its own reflection on the rippled surface. It didn't care about its loneliness; it just kept floating as if it was the only thing it could do._

---

I didn't get chased today, not even once. Perhaps Lavi's advice has really solved my problem with the demons, or my Contract with him is keeping me away from the pursuers. Well, I'm practically enjoying the peaceful time; my questioning thoughts don't mean any discomfort. It feels so nice walking calmly and enjoying the fresh air and the beautiful light of sunset…

Suddenly I feel like visiting Lavi. After the incident yesterday, I've started to consider him my true friend, although perhaps because few people can admit such a fact, I'm still unable to say it out loud. He seems to be lonely, regardless of his distinctive smile and his childish manner… No, not quite childish, since he only acts half like a child, and the other half like an experienced sage. I'm not sure if he's made any other outside contact aside from me, for the mansion has a telephone which doesn't seem to have been used for a very long time, but I'm certain that he was unable to get out of his box until I came. That's it; I'll invite him to hang out downtown this weekend.

I keep on walking until I reach the mansion where Lavi's living at. Strangely, I'm not feeling the regular creepiness that fears even cats and dogs of the neighborhood, but a delightful feeling of comfort and familiarity. Perhaps it's because I've known the person who's living inside the residence is actually a friendly Crusader, who I've made a Contract to, and there's nothing harmful inside the mansion, not even a flicker of apparitions or ghosts. The only problem now is how to prove that the house is apparently harmless and not at all haunted to every citizen of this city…

I freeze seeing a familiar figure standing in front of the gate.

Hey… I know too well the possessor of this distinctive high ponytail and the shinai on his back.

Then, if not to slaughter the demons which have always chased me around, what the hell is he doing here, just staring at the mansion like a complete idiot?

The gate automatically opens, just like how it welcomed me yesterday. Of course it shows that the stupid kendouka has an intention of entering the mansion… I become nervous all of the sudden. What exactly is his intention of entering the mansion, when he knows nothing about my Contract with Lavi? Or is that he's known about our Contract, and is here to do some investigations?

If he finds any clue about me involving in a beast hunt, I'll be in serious trouble with my father, who's apparently oblivious to the supernatural creatures and events that I've been experiencing.

And worse, Lavi will be killed, since a selected number of shinshoku at Ise-Jinguu are secretly trained to be Hunters of _any_ kind of supernatural beings, from ogres and dragons to originally human witches and sorcerers…

I must stop him, no matter what.

I sneak behind the gate as the kendouka walks along the path to the main entrance. The hydrangeas suddenly change from the peaceful blue and pink to a deadly blood-red, possibly indicating an upcoming danger. I know exactly what kind of danger they're foretelling, the danger that's coming closer and closer to the front door, with a shinai on his back that "is not just a mere bamboo stick at all."

The front door opens, despite the silent warning of the hydrangeas. I'm utterly confused at the mansion's spiritual conflict, as if its spirit has divided itself into two: one which warns about the coming danger, and the other letting the harm in. I don't know if this conflict is just merely what it's called, or if this is intentional, but right now I only have one thing to think of.

I must protect Lavi, no matter what.

As the kendouka enters the main hall, I quickly dash behind the main door, waiting for the suitable moment to knock him out before he can have the chance to face Lavi. However, even before I can grab the chance, another figure appears on top of the staircase and stands there calmly, as if ready for a challenge.

"What burden brings you here, _Hunter_?" The voice, undoubtedly, belongs to Lavi. "If my hunting business bothers yours, we'll just need a proper discussion, that's all. You don't need to actually bring your katana here."

The kendouka flinches, while I'm dumbstruck at the redhead's statement. "I'm just here to do what Hunters are supposed to do." I can't see his expression, since I'm hiding behind his back, but I'm sure that he's pretty much pissed off. "Even Crusaders do not belong to our exception list. Oh, and we don't have any exception list, so prepare to be killed!"

I gasp in horror as the kendouka unsheathes his shinai and rushes towards the still calm Crusader. I know the secret behind that seemingly harmless bamboo stick, no, just a disguise of a much, much more deadly sharpness of rigid punishment and recklessness. I'm deadly serious that the redhead must not just stay that calm and smile like everything is just a game like that.

_Slash._

The blade of the transformed katana hits the wall, and the redhead is seen having successfully dodged to one side, still retaining his amused smile. The thrusting-dodging process keeps going on like a tremendous hurricane whose winds threaten to wipe out any obstacles standing on their way. My mind is reeling with dizziness as I continue observing the fight and thinking of how to stop these two from fightin-

It might be risky this time, but it's the only way.

"Stop right there, you two!"

The swordsman stops briefly and turns his head to me. "Don't interrupt my business, or I'll chop your head, baka Moyashi!"

I flinch at the annoying nickname that he always uses to call me. "Don't call me that! And Lavi isn't your enemy!" Without much consideration nor the need to wait for a reply, I jump to their place, attempting to somehow interrupt their fight. Instantly, a dreadful glare is thrown right at me, along with an abrupt yell of "Go away, Moyashi!". Obviously that name gets on my nerves, so why the hell should I obey him and leave them alone? That's why I just stubbornly stand in front of the staircase, uncaring of the consequences. Not until Lavi also slows down and looks at me directly…

"Don't move."

I don't quite get him, but still retreat to the place below the handle of the staircase. As if his words have some kind of magical power, I feel that my body has instinctively frozen, like it's following an ultimate order. From my place I can still see their faces clearly, one aggressive and ruthless, the other calm and seemingly uninterested. The swordsman jumps backwards, already aware and alerted of my existence, thus still preparing for a more decisive row of slashes and thrusts, while Lavi just simply brings his hand to the black half-mask and slowly untie the string behind his head.

I jolt in both shock and horror.

Behind the thin layer of leather is a silver orb, as clear as the shade of the moon. I can easily catch the appealing shade, even when his eye is half covered by the eyelid. Then it bursts fully open, like a full-bloomed moonflower, to reveal not the argentine jewel that I've seen, but a more vivid gem that looks like the minimized sky seen through a telescope, with a green and pink ring that orbits the pupil like the refraction of sunlight. It's truly and breathtakingly beautiful, like the view inside a living kaleidoscope…

Or perhaps, the colors of the bordered "emptiness."

I escape from my daydreaming as a swishing sound snaps me out of my train of thoughts. The next thing I see looks unreal to my eye, but too real to deny. I swear that no human can do such an amazing thing… No, Lavi's said that he's not at all human, so what exactly is he, formally called "Crusader," when he can actually…

Stop a slashing blade by his bare hand, no, just the thumb and index finger of his right hand?

I can see the swordsman struggling to get his katana free from the strong hold as he tries desperately to pull the sword back. The Crusader still remains unshaken, and he seems to have no difficulties maintaining his grip on the sharp steel, as if the weapon was just a piece of paper to him. I'm about to exclaim something in awe, but nothing comes out of my mouth, like the shock has taken my voice away. He's just incredible, to the point strikingly similar to impossibility…

"If you don't want your precious katana to be broken, calm down and stop thinking that I'm bothering your job," Lavi smirks, his vivid eye glowing in the refraction of light. "You know what? The 'dead point' of your sword is kind of the most appealing part of the whole blade…"

"W-What are you talking about?" For the first time in my life, I've spotted fear in the swordsman's voice.

"'Death'." He speaks as if to himself. "The vivid cracks that run like streaks and stains of blood across everything…" The blade suddenly starts to crack right from where the redhead's fingers are holding. "Every single thing that has 'existence…' Your sword, the air around you…" His voice is exactly the same as when he first taught me about my attraction to spirits. "Even your intention and your death… Everything has its 'defeat,' the wish to be recreated into a more perfect existence." He forcefully pulls his hand to a side, and the blade turns into scattering pieces of metal flying in midair, to the swordsman's horror. "I've seen the 'defeat' of your sword. A large stain of blood in the middle of the blade."

I gasp horrified seeing the pieces scattering on the floor like a broken mirror. I remember this dreadful ability that the swordsman once told me when he was teaching me a few basics of kendo. A powerful ability classified under "Psychokinesis Magic," which allows the user to see the "defeat" of everything that exists and cut through it, no matter how sharp the cutting tool is.

_Death Perception Psychokinesis._

The swordsman is still shocked about what has just happened, as the hand holding the formerly whole sword is shaking noticeably. He looks both terrified and furious, because of Lavi's incredible ability and his precious inheritance being destroyed in a single second. I slowly crawl out of my hiding place, trembling violently staring at the pieces of steel that reflect my fear perfectly. I feel like I should say something to either of them, but apparently I don't know what to say or who to say it to. Or to be more precise, I've temporarily lost my ability to speak and think logically. The fear that's taking over sure is terrible…

"You…" That single word escapes from the swordsman's lips shakingly. "You… You bastard!"

I can still see the redhead smiling as if nothing has happened. "It's your blade that's broken," he speaks emotionlessly. "Unless you stop thinking that it's fixable, I won't repair it for you."

I remember this tone. The rigid tone that he used to tell me about how my thoughts had influenced the demons' behavior, about how my emotions could affect others'… I wonder if he's trying to convince the swordsman to surrender or to accept his offer, since the katana holds a great value to both himself and his family, a renowned generation of excellent Hunters.

"If you can bring yourself to think that there's someone who can fix your hallowed sword …" He turns his gaze to the scattered metal before me. "I'll accomplish your vision."

The swordsman grits his teeth soundly, seizing the hilt to the point that his hand starts to tremble not because of his anger. The Crusader observes his rival's expression carefully before his smile widens, and the rainbow in his pupil starts to fade until only the blank white remains. It seems like he's trying to make a sarcastic reaction, crossing his arms in front of his chest while smiling carefreely, waiting for the other to respond. A corner of his lips suddenly twitches – I can tell it does even from my angle – and he lets his arms fall free to his sides.

"Sure, I'll show you what the truth can be."

His white eye glows again, but this time just the original color of the orb, the pure color of the moonlight. I startle as the pieces before me start to tremble, and at the same time, a glimpse of white light, forming the original shape of the katana's blade, shoots out from the guard of the hilt. The pieces fly to the glowing outline and automatically reassemble like a puzzle, and eventually, the cracks from the break disappears, and the blade returns to its normal state. Completely whole and unbroken.

I snap myself out of awe and astonishment and stare at the scene in front of my eyes. The swordsman is staring at his precious katana with a shocked and disbelieving expression, as if everything that has happened to his inheritance was just a meaningless illusion. _Yeah, the sword is a whole now_, such a simple sentence amongst everything else that I want to speak, but the fact is too obvious to be stated at the moment. Lavi still remains beaming, as if he's about to burst out laughing, while leaning on the rail in a relaxed manner.

"I have no intention to fight you," he states straightly. "So however our battle, no, just conflict, will progress is up to you. I fixed your katana only because of that."

My mind clicks as I realize what he means. _However our battle, no, just conflict, will progress is up to you_… No, he knows that the answer is too obvious. A Hunter never abandons his target, so even if he's said so, I've already known what the reply will be. Certainly.

"Stop this fight, right now!"

I yell as my feet bring me to where Lavi is standing, and a second later, I become the shield for the Crusader. "Lavi, are you OK?" I glance at the redhead behind me, seeing him tilting his head slightly in assurance. Then I turn to the swordsman with a dreadful glare. "Now you know that Lavi can break Mugen easily, so please stop this fight now!"

I look determined outside, but I'm actually really addled inside from not receiving any response from the Hunter. As if he's struggling between the safety of himself and his inheritance and his pride as a Hunter, his lips are pursed tightly, and his eyes never leave his cherished katana. I slowly let my arms, having been raised horizontally to my sides, fall freely, and relax myself a bit, feeling somewhat sympathetic and understanding. Perhaps he's also struggling with another unfamiliar feeling that occurs when he first experiences a conflict between his traditional belief and what he cherishes. I develop a funny thought that the one who's never experienced something, particularly me, understands it the best, while the one experiencing it can barely comprehend what it is.

Suddenly I hear footsteps coming from behind my back and passing onto my front. "You shouldn't wonder what you should choose over the other," the redhead suggests as he steps more closely to the perplexed swordsman. "Think about what you should protect _first_, then you can think about protecting the other later."

The Hunter remains immobile and thoughtful briefly before unreluctantly turning his katana into its wooden camouflage of a shinai while glaring at his previous rival with a less tense glare. "Fine," he speaks like growling. "However, if you ever have the guts to cause any trouble, regardless of the target and the consequences, I'll set off immediately to eliminate your existence."

I smile, feeling this threat strangely pleasant. "No problem," replies the Crusader beaming in emphasis. "_Yuu-chan_."

The swordsman twitches continuously, his face turning red in fury, while I feel like multiple ice daggers are stabbing me on my back. There goes the pleasant feeling. "What the hell did you just call me?" He threats in a low, dangerously tone.

"By your first name," answers the redhead cheerfully. "Isn't that how friends address each other?"

I shiver, also twitching. "I am _not_ your friend, you frigging Crusader!" Snaps the swordsman irritatedly. "Sheesh, you're just as annoying as the stupid Moyashi over there…"

Even though he muttered the sentence, I can still catch it coherently. "Hey, I heard that!" I scowl in response and also to remind them of my presence. "For probably not the last time I have to tell you that I am not a freaking beansprout and I am not stupid, BaKanda!"

"Well, even if you get rid of that freaking white hair of yours, you'll still be a stupid Moyashi, and that fact will _never_ change." I almost forgot that Kanda is an expert at mocking, or more precisely, _mortifying_. "Freaks can only befriend freaks…"

Utterly enraged, I'm about to rush forwards and hit him hard on his head when a thin arm shields me from my target. "Come on, don't quarrel like that!" Lavi's comment sounds a lot like when a babysitter stops the children from fighting. "You guys are behaving like children. And _Moyashi-chan_, don't call Yuu-chan 'stupid.' He doesn't deserve that word, you know."

Now it's my turn to twitch. "Excuse me?" I put stress on the second word significantly. "Why are you following that stupid, foul-mouthed, unmannerly Hunter and calling me by that stupid nickname?"

"Well, since I have a feeling that you guys always behave like kids whenever having each other around, I think I should treat you like small children," answers the redhead matter-of-factly. "And calling friends by their nicknames are fun! Only if you don't mean to insult them, though… I think that the name 'Yuu' is cute, even though it sounds a bit _feminine_…" He seems to be obvious to the kendouka's intense glare, but chooses to ignore it nonetheless. "And beansprouts are cute, too! Yuu-chan only calls you that because your hair has the same color tone as the beansprouts. Both are white, purely white, you see."

I raise my eyebrows at his explanation. "…This is probably the most simple thing you've ever spoken, right?"

"If you want me to say something simpler, perhaps I can say hello or ask about your well-being," replies Lavi with a slightly sarcastic tone. "I've always thought that telling the truth is simple, but it seems that mortals have yet to learn the complication of reality and truthfulness."

I feel my eyebrows are about to touch the top of my forehead. "…Fine, we mortals can never fully comprehend the meaning of reality, is that what you mean?"

"Yes and no," the redhead swings his arms onto the Hunter's and my shoulders. "First, you can never fully learn, so that's a 'yes.' Second, reality has no meaning, since it's too obvious to mortals' normal concept, and it needs no theory nor fact to explain." He seems to intentionally bring us closer. "But still, since your lives haven't reached the second decade yet, I don't expect you to understand that much."

I narrow my eyes, and the kendouka snorts. "How old are you, then?"

"I was created somewhere around 1753, so I guess I'm… 256?" He makes the most sheepish grin ever. "Although my appearance makes me look much younger… Still, it's better than having wrinkles and a beard, right?"

I believe that my eyes are even larger than saucers as my mind replays the redhead's shocking calculation result. So that means he's approximately 17 times older than me… Oh crap! I can't believe he's lived for two centuries and a half! I wonder if life in the 18th century was really like the description in my history book…

"Fine," Lavi makes a pouting face. "I've been living here for 18 years… So just take a sticky note inside your head that I'm only 18, counting the time I've been living away from my creator, OK?"

I chuckle quietly at the suggested "sticky note." "That means he's BaKanda's senpai, then." Said kendouka grunts in discomfort. "It also means that him calling you "Yuu-chan" isn't inappropriate after all."

He shoots a glare at me for following the Crusader. "Che," he clicks his tongue irritatedly. "Whatever."

Lavi looks at him with a playful expression. "So does that mean… I'm your friend now?" He brings us closer by his arms as I nod gleefully and the Japanese snorts and glares at both of us. "Awesome! I haven't had a single friend in nearly two centuries!"

I laugh at his childishness, while at the same time sympathize with the loneliness he's had to endure for most of the time. No wonder why he seemed to be so excited about my first arrival at this mansion, and didn't get angry or upset at the kendouka's intrusion and aggression. Even though he doesn't seem to bother about people thinking that this residence is haunted, I can still feel glints of loneliness in every motion and every word he says.

Nevertheless, he still acts like not at all bothered by his forlorn fate.

I guess… One thing that he has yet to experience, and I can understand it best, is friendship and partnership.

---

_The butterfly had remained there for a long time before a dragonfly approached._

* * *

 **Mata Kaze ga Tsuyokunatta ******

* * *

Perhaps the Hunter has been dramatically influenced by what happened yesterday as he seems to be more cautious about every single move I make. Weird… I suppose he should've paid his utmost attention to _Lavi_, not me. Speaking of which, I'm only his Contractor, and aside from my ability of attracting spirits, I'm completely useless, so why on Earth am I the primary target of his attention?

Sighing tiredly, I glance at the plastic bag loosely seized in my right hand. Beefsteak, huh? I always thought that it was supposed to be eaten with peas, smashed potato and salad… And ironically, the grocery store has run out of tomatoes and carrots… Still, it's fine to me, since I'm not a big eater, and I'm not really fond of tomatoes, anyway.

Weird… The grocery store has _never_ run out of anything before closing time. Ever.

I was planning to buy some Häagen-Dazs, but some greedy people have bought to the last container before I came. There goes my favorite dessert… But the store manager will purchase more ice cream tomorrow, and perhaps I'll buy a container for Lavi. Saying he researches about everything doesn't mean he's truly had an experience of _trying_ it. After all, people's tastes differ, like he joked senselessly yesterday on something I could barely remember.

Passing through the park, I think about taking a little of my time to buy a drink from the vending machine. Perhaps I got to the store too late that it had run out of juice. After a short while of consideration, I choose the orange juice can, and shove my left hand into the pocket to search for my wallet for some spare change. I hate it when one of my hands is unavailable, especially when I need to take the money out of my wallet. Perhaps I should just put the bag down to free my right hand from the ponderous plastic …

And the nearest bench is approximately three meters away from here.

Apparently I'm not so free to actually walk three meters to the bench, then three meters back to the vending machine, and three meters back again to get the grocery bag.

Suddenly I feel a chill running down my spine. Oh no… I definitely know why I'm having this feeling. Every time I was chased by those demoniac beasts, every time I went pass the cemetery, I could feel it so significantly… However, this time, the feeling is much stronger, like a warning of a fatal danger. Somehow I can't lift my feet, as if a spell is preventing me from escaping, and the chill keeps creeping, not just to me but also to the surroundings, creating a curtain of mist that blocks away the darkness of the night. I have a feeling that this is not among the ordinary demons that I had to encounter various times before, but rather a more destructive and mysterious type that's threatening to end my life…

I turn around and catch the outline of a dark creature stepping out from the thick bushes. The beast keeps creeping closer, and if I'm right, it's a quadruped beast whose height to the shoulder is even greater than me. It's revealed as a gigantic black wolf – I can tell because the distinctive hue doesn't change even when displayed next to the light – with large, sharp claws and two blood-red stripes that run from the corners of both eyes along the back and converge at the tip of the tail. No, I can't even tell if it's a wolf or a truly catastrophic demon, since it looks like both.

Golden eyes glare at me in rage as large, sharp fangs are bared, and heavy footsteps slowly press on the concrete floor ponderously. I know that I'm shaking even more than a pneumatic drill, but the beast has created some kind of barrier to lock me inside. Now neither the annoying kendouka nor locking the door of my room and praying can save me from being eaten. I just hope that there's actually someone, even just a pedestrian or a beggar, who can be my miracle…

A sudden light shines brilliantly beside me, and I turn my head to catch a large electric-blue circle forming on the ground. Looking closely, I see that the circle is actually a magic circuit, with characters that look like runes circulating a smaller circle with a six-pointed star inside. I'm even more shocked when a human figure suddenly jumps out from the center of the circuit and lands beside me in only one second. As the circuit slowly fades away, the newcomer stands up calmly and steps up in front of me. Hey… I know who this gesture belongs to…

"Long time no see, old friend," the newcomer greets with a gleeful voice. "Guess you've run out of victims to bother… Perhaps I should bid you a proper good-bye from your meaningless hunting career, _the opposite of me_."

The beast roars in response, and his golden orbs gleam ominously. Then numerous canine figures start to appear around us, all glowing ferociously like wolf-shaped blazes with blank white eyes. The redhead in front of me chuckles silently and starts to undo the ribbon of his half-mask, as if he's really excited about the whole incident. I don't want to push myself to believe that he's taking down all those monsters by himself, but apparently, it seems that both of us have no choice.

The redhead suddenly disappears, and two wolves on my left vanish into streaks of fire. The Crusader reappears, bending on one knee after the landing, and I notice a shiny object hovering above his right hand. The most conspicuous is the almost transparent sapphire marble of the size of a tennis ball, with ice-like spikes inside diverging from the center in every direction and a minimized version of the previous magic circuit at the bottom. From the top, encircled by a steel-like ring with numerous rune characters on the inner side, emerges a dagger blade with three engraved rune characters and a thin, hollow, thermometer-shaped "fuller," which starts from the point where the blade attaches to the marble. I've seen its careless sketch in a book about ancient artefacts, under the name of "Valstyg Friga," which means "Frozen Blade" in some kind of language used in sorcery. A really beautiful weapon it is, if not considering the fact that it's cut through the "defeats" of those two wolves…

The Crusader dashes towards another pair of beasts, the dagger loosely wrapped by thin fingers as if the hand's seizing an invisible hilt around the marble. With his Death Perception Psychokinesis, he destroys them with little effort. He never stops for a single second, as his legs continue to leap, his eye continue to identify the "colorful cracks," and his hand continue to control the bloodthristy blade. The wolves, foolishly, keep on dashing towards him as if their partners' death doesn't give them any lesson, and keep on being turned into faint streaks of white and yellow. The black beast roars in fury seeing its simulations eliminated one by one, and as its voice shakes the ground and causes the air to tremble violently, more and more wolves of fire appear to replace the lost members. The beasts seem to be so concentrated on their new enemy that they neglect their previous target, the so-called Contractor who happens to be me.

The redhead stops beside me, his expression changes from pure enthusiasm and excitement to thoughtfulness and annoyance. Scanning through the new pack, he lets out a seemingly fake sigh of frustration. "They're even stronger than before?" He feigns a childish huff. "So that's how you want to play… Well, let's resume our game, and I'll defeat all of your servants, from the weaker to the stronger!"

The wolf's roar is like the signal of beginning, and the redhead disappears into the wind. He moves so fast that I can barely see, his figure looking very much like blurs of red and black jumping from wolf to wolf. A bright blue streak, which perhaps belongs to the Friga, follows the black blur like a faithful servant, and runs through the bodies of the fire beasts, creating a scene of a blue line laying between masses of white which are obviously separated. The wolves dissolve into nothingness nearly simultaneously, and the white streaks slowly disappear like mist revealing the head of the pack, enraged and frustrated. Eyes gleaming like warning, it growls lowly and quietly, and suddenly I feel the air around me radiating like a tornado. Lavi also stops when he feels the wind becoming stronger and stronger, like when a storm is coming.

_There's no escape now…_

I shiver as a creepy voice is heard from somewhere very close to where I'm standing. "Lavi, did you just say anything?"

"This is no time to talk nonsense, Allen," he replies with a slightly panicked tone, his eyes focused on the eye of the storm, which is none other than the black wolf itself. The beast looks like it's grinning, and the leaves around it start to fly around in chaos. I can see red and green glints mysteriously appearing in midair, and suddenly the spots gather as quickly as lightning right on the Crusader's right shoulder. Widening his eyes in horror, the redhead takes a step to the left, and I notice the air where the glints have gathered and disappeared is unstable, as if it was being heated.

But I'm certain that this kind of power has nothing to do with heat.

The Crusader's shoulder is injured.

Covering his wound with his left hand, the redhead glares at his rival angrily. "Don't think you can destroy this park that easily!" He yells running towards the roaring beast, the Friga flipped cleverly in his right palm. He's much, much stronger than the tremendous wind that's trying to knock me off, as his figure is now like a black sword tearing the air apart. As fast as an arrow rushing towards a wall of metal, he leaps up into the air and nearly lays a kick on the beast's neck when the wolf itself suddenly moves – perhaps this is the first time in the fight that I can see it actually using its legs – leaving the redhead landing on the ground, almost losing his balance. The arrow shoots itself again towards the black wall that it's been aiming for, and this time it's a successful slash on the left chest. Just a slash is OK, especially for the black sword that's given chances to only tear the air, and the Crusader is seen standing on a nearby tree, preparing for an attack from midair.

The wind is getting stronger, and I can feel my body itching, like when thousands of microscopic needles are stabbing me. I wonder if the wolf's power is to make the air able to hurt, since the wound on Lavi's shoulder is unargueably irregular. I can still remember the air around the injured area was flickering in red, purple and green, and it looked like a rippled water surface before the shoulder started bleeding. Well, so of course that beast's ability is to use the air as a weapon, but what kind of weapon it is is still a mystery that only it knows. _"I know what it doesn't, and vice versa, so the questions that I can't answer are its advantage," _the Crusader told me so.

The attack from the air manages to lay a scratch on the beast's forehead. The Crusader is facing his enemy in frustration, perhaps thinking "Damn, I was so close to killing it!" Trying to again tear the air apart, he rushes towards the roaring beast, and suddenly jumps up, again aiming for its head. He's so close to stabbing right on the wolf's muzzle when something catches the animal's attention, and as it takes a step backwards, the air around us returns to its calm and unstirred state. Returning to the ground in confusion, the Crusader frowns at the seemingly uninterested beast for a few seconds before letting his right hand fall free, relaxing his muscles a bit. "What's got into you? He's just a little distraction!"

I raise my eyebrow, trying to figure who that "little distraction" is. The wolf roars in frustration, and the wind slowly weakens, returning everything to calmness. The beast's eyes gleam omniously, and its shadowy figure retreats into the darkness behind the light blinking like it's broken. The Crusader just stands there confused, not looking like he's about to chase after his enemy. Or perhaps he doesn't want to do so…

Suddenly a stinging feeling attacks my left hand. It's supposed to be just a small pain, but this time it hurts so much that it makes me collapse. Having to get rid of the annoying signals that the neurons are sending to my brain, I try my best to raise my hand to my eye level. It's bleeding badly and looks like it's burnt and chopped. I just wonder how I have been able to neglect it until now. That wind sure can do more than we supposed…

"Are you OK? Does it hurt badly?" The Crusader rushes towards me in panic, perhaps having forgotten his own injury, which is obviously much worse than mine. "I-I'm so sorry I left you behind!" He apologizes even though it's clearly not his fault, and even if it was I wouldn't mind, since he's having to deal with his own pain.

"It's… actually not that bad. Don't worry." I try to crack a smile, not wanting to worry him. Although I know he's the personification of the truth, and I don't need to say a fact out loud for him to know…

Before I can say anything else, the white light as pure as the serene moonlight has covered my injured hand, and the redhead's eyes are closed, concentrating on possibly magic. Gradually the light fades away – oh how I miss that graceful shade – and I look at my hand in a strange way to realize that the wound is gone. I lift my eyes to the redhead and stare at his smiling face. "…I've already said it's not that bad. You should've worried for yourself first."

He blinks at me once, his smile not fading a bit. A fake smile, a forced smile. "It's not that bad only to you. And I'm not that selfish." He says as if joking. Even though he's trying to smile perhaps to prove he's fine, I can still see that trembling in his eyes. Living beings can never hide their pain away, and even the slightest hint can be visible to anyone or anything. I can only pity him, since he can heal any kind of wounds but not his. He has to endure everything by himself while setting off to make others feel comfortable and at peace. Is it what the truth really does? Or is it what the truth really is?

Why can't anyone see that it's always the truth which's been comforting them all along?

I take a small peek at his shoulder, his fake smile meaning nothing to me. It's a bad wound which bleeds like rotten meat, exposing a deep black hollow really close to his collar bone. He's trying to hide his pain because he's concerned about me? It's like we're in the situation when an injured person cures another who's also in the same condition despite his protest. I mean, if that cured person still sees that his friend is still in pain, will he be happy? I'd rather let my hand bleed until the amount of blood lost is approximate to the Crusader's than seeing him trying to bit back his own pain.

"I'm sorry… I can't make the pain go away…" The Crusader apologizes quietly, gazing at the small droplets of crimson liquid on the ground. It's true that he can't get the pain to go away and compensate for the amount of blood loss, but he should apologize only if his pain is gone. He's made me feel even worse about his wound… I just want to share his pain.

I shake my head, being as understanding as possible. "It's not your fault, fellow. Don't apologize for mistakes that aren't yours." I nearly chuckle at the word "fellow" that I've just spoken out as the redhead blinks at me confusedly and also smiles. That expression of his might be the most common, since he's been using it a lot ever since we met. But have those smiles ever been real with his wounds still hurting terribly? He's been hurt so badly, while at the same time bearing wounds of other things as the truth is something constantly blamed on. I was trying to soothe him because I didn't want him to get any more wounds to himself.

The mist has fully gone, and I, again instinctively, look at the park's entrance to see a tall figure standing in the shades of the trees. I wonder what we should say to the stranger if he or she asks about Lavi's injury, since we can't just say that we got into a fight. I'd never fight a good friend of mine, even if he'd gotten himself into a situation in which he deserves to be hit (and the Crusader is never this type of guy). I stand up and brush the dust off my clothes, and supports the redhead so that he also stands straight, since his shoulder is probably throwing off his sense of balance among other things. We should worry about the newcomer first, since that person might give me a heart attack if my nervousness is still conquering…

"You idiots! What kind of trouble did you get yourself into?"

If I were a porcupine, I'd ball myself without any consideration and hit that guy as hard as a porcupine can. "Can you try to at least be kinder? It was a matter of life and death!" Damn, why can that jerk be so uncaring?

"Che. You guys were nearly killed by that beast, so you did engage in a frigging trouble." The swordsman shrugs like he's right as he walks towards us. "I'd rather let you rot to death in here, but I couldn't neglect my hunting job."

I grit my teeth and ball my right hand into a fist. "Why you…" I mutter, really about to hit him as a human and not a porcupine that I've thought of when his sentence strucks me hard on my ears. "Wait a minute, so you were the person standing outside the park the whole time?"

"Uhm… Can I speak here?" The seemingly forgotten Crusader raises his hand shyly, asking for a chance to speak. "Well, he was, and he was also that 'little distraction' I was talking about with the 'wolf'."

I snicker secretly seeing the swordsman twitching at the word "little." "Stupid Crusader," he mumbles as several veins pop on his head. "I should've left you idiots dealing with your own lives… And what a despicable beast that monster is. Why should it retreat when it could kill these two mutts easily?"

"Whatever you say, you were trying to save us," the redhead interjects. "We are truly thankful for that, so I don't think you should pretend like you don't really care."

Like the redhead's comment has hit the mark, the swordsman twitches for the unknown time of the day. "Whatever," he mutters and wraps a piece of white cloth, which he pulls out from nowhere, on the Crusader's shoulder. "Idiot, if you were trying to test the 'wolf''s ability, do it by some other method rather than injuring yourself."

I blink confusedly staring at the redhead's injured shoulder. I can't understand why Lavi had to make himself the experimental hamster for this whole power-testing thing. He could've just looked at the leaves or felt the radiation of the wind. I suppose he was trying to feel how strong the power was rather than what kind of power it was, so he tested it on his own flesh. It was painful, but it was also the most effective way. Everything has a price, and the Crusader has already paid for his reckless experiment.

"Thanks for caring," the redhead murmurs gleefully, making the swordsman pause for about a half second or so before continuing walking towards the park's entrance. "Anyway, why didn't you bring your sword? It could break that wind barrier, couldn't it?" I realize the shinai usually on the swordsman's back is nowhere to be seen. "Don't tell me… You left in a hurry, didn't you?"

Well, so the swordsman isn't as heartless as I thought. "Stop asking me nonsensical questions," the kendouka grits his teeth, not wanting his good intention to be revealed more. "Damn, you and Moyashi are just as talkative as each other. Next time go ahead and bother someone else other than me."

"What? We were just expressing our thankfulness!" I retort, but my voice is expressing happiness rather than anger. "By the way, what should we do after getting Lavi home? We can't just let him alone." I quickly cut off Lavi's head-shaking protest, not wanting him to refuse any other offer of help. "How about I stay over tonight? I've bought food enough for three days, so it's no problem sharing some with you."

"Uhm… Actually, we Crusaders don't really need food," the redhead explains along with a hinted refusal. "We're just dolls, and we live as long as the truth exists and nothing destroys us. It's putting it simple, but what I'm really trying is… I don't want to bother you guys."

"But you are," snorts the swordsman, although his voice expresses no offense. "Still, just get your useless ass on the bed. We'll guard the mansion."

For an instance I get a hint of the phrase "for you" intentionally omitted from the sentence. "Usually it's the host who invites people to a sleepover, but this time… We're asking for a sleepover from the host." _To guard his mansion while he takes a rest_, I mentally add. "Let's get back to the mansion, and I'll take care of the wound."

Of course the redhead nods in agreement, since we seem to be a good pair, while the swordsman just grunts. Along the way is the funniest part, when the Crusader cleverly pulls the kendouka's hair tie down and nearly receives a punch from the rampant Japanese (did I forget to mention the swordsman's weakness is having someone see him when his hair is down?). This road is often quiet and lonely whenever I walk on it from the grocery store, but this night it unconsciously becomes more noisy and, if this is the right word judging the situation, "chaotic." With the swordsman trying to punish the curious Crusader but having to avoid his injured shoulder, it sure is a whole mess.

For the first time of my life, I laugh so hard that my left knee drops and I almost fall on the ground.

To think of it, the way home is not that far anymore.

That's how our second family is created.

* * *

 **ARIA ******

* * *

"The new mall downtown is holding a celebration for its opening," I try to make a conversation as we keep walking along the street, obviously uncaring of our destination. "Perhaps I can take you there. Unless you don't want to…"

"Why do I not want to? Before I started living alone, wandering around was a perfect way to relax myself," replies Lavi enthusiastically. "If you keep speaking in the manner of 'a half-empty cup' like that, I probably won't go," he pokes my forehead playfully. "When you invite someone on a date, you should never speak out your uncertainty or fear of failure. Now I feel that my excitement is partly ruined."

I nearly fall over hearing his last sentence. "Eh? Oh, it wasn't that I was pessimistic at all! You're the one who didn't seem to take any interest in wandering around the city and having fun." 'Now that I know he likes wandering around…'

He arches his eyebrows at me. "Really? But no matter what the attitude of your subject is, you shouldn't be so pessimistic about the consequences," he quickly draws a logical reply. "So you're still a pessimist, like I've said."

I humph in response. "Fine, I accept my mistake. So you're going?"

He beams brightly at my invitation. "Sure, why not? It's the first time I've ever had a Contractor to hang out with!"

"Yeah, I can see that," I reply obviously. "By the way, why don't you just take your mask off? Don't you think that you'll look really strange wearing that mask around?"

The redhead reaches his hand to the leather piece. "Even if something you like looks strange to other people, if it doesn't offend them, then why bother trying to throw it away?" He withdraws his hand and digs it into his pocket. "Moreover, people will probably think that the covered part of my face can be a terrible scar or burn, and since I probably don't like wearing bandages, I've decided to use a leather half-mask instead."

"…OK." Sighing for the reply, I half-heartedly observe the surroundings. The crowd which keeps flowing in various different directions is an oh-so-familiar image that I'm tired of seeing everyday. Well, not until I notice something and nearly burst out laughing seeing a group of girls walking to the opposite direction across the street, looking right at us and turning as red as a garden of tomatoes. Of course I know the cause, an oblivious redhead walking right next to me, his attention fully caught by the modern skyscrapers and some little shops along the way. I'm about to call for him when some other high school girls – I can tell from their uniforms – nearly drop all of their schoolbags gaping like a school of fish out of water. Even though so, I still choose to ignore it, hence still thinking of telling the annoying kendouka someday.

I shake my mind out of the train of thoughts as my sight catches the familiar structure of the skyscraper mall. "Oh, here we are!"

He blinks a few times before his focus turns to the large building before our eyes. "It seems like there'll be a big sale inside." I guess that he's trying to speak with a little hint of uncertainty, just like how normal humans predict what they're going to see. "Let's go check it out!" And also trying to act as if he had no idea about what's happening inside.

Strangely, I haven't felt so happy and interested before. Even if I've seen Lavi acting childish and curious before, I still feel like it's something completely unfamiliar to me. I mean, he's acting completely different from when he engages in battle, in which he shows a darker and much more incomprehensible personality. Sometimes I just feel like he's the most mysterious being in the whole universe, even more mysterious and unpredictable than all those cryptids and parapsychological matters. If the truth is something so obvious to humans' senses, its keeper is probably the personification of every mystery lying between the cracks. That's why I feel conflicted every time I see him, also every time I can feel a miscellany between comprehensibility and curiosity.

As we pass through various stores, I slowly note his interest in certain items. It seems like he's a plant lover, as we stopped in front of the store for quite a long time, and he never left his eye from the plant pots and plates, even though some of them were fake, made of plastic and paper. He'd sometimes peek at a certain jacket, or peer around the gaming area just out of curiosity. Knowing that he's too obvious about everything, being the keeper of the truth, I still think he's actually enjoying the moment.

Even though he seems so wise and understanding outside, I feel he's just a weak-minded and vulnerable child inside.

"Gotcha!" He exclaims excitedly as the second plushie toy is grabbed from the UFO catcher machine. It's another cat, which I can tell immediately from those triangular ears, black strings sewed simply on the face to resemble whiskers, thin oval orbs, and a long straight tail. This cat's fur is white, the complete opposite color from that of the one he's grabbed before. Only the color of the eyes, the passionate and mysterious vermillion, and the yellow bells attached to the red ribbons tied around the necks are the same.

"Yin" and "yang," right? I observe the cats in details. Putting the toys next to each other, the image of a circle composed by two magatama-shaped pieces of contrasting colors appears vaguely in my mind. Somehow I start comparing the cats to Lavi and his complete opposite, only known as "Deception," and come to think of it, Lavi can be the "yin" piece, and the other can take the "yang." Speaking of which, having a humanoid existence for the "yin" side and a demoniac wolf for the "yang" seems quite inappropriate, but that's what I'm facing now.

An inappropriate truth.

We stop at a fast food store for lunch, and after finding a table, I put the two cats onto the cold crimson surface, next to each other. Their gestures and expressions are identical, and only the colors of their fur are different. I wonder if Lavi and his opposite are just different on the outside, while being completely the same on the inside. Their existences are both based on life, consisting of truths and lies, reality and deceit, and they coexist, regardless of their destined conflict. Perhaps even though they're opposites, they're actually reflections of each other.

An inappropriate truth, indeed.

The redhead is also gazing at the two plushie toys, a small smile forming on his lips. Perhaps he's caught a glimpse of himself in the figure of the white cat, and his opposite in the black one. Or maybe the black one actually is himself. Or maybe… Each cat represents a half of himself. I notice the white cat has a wider smile than the black one, so it's possible that he thinks of himself at the moment as the white cat, and himself in battle as the black one. "Yin" and "yang"? Sure, I think they're logical. Especially when they're used to compare to a complex and incomprehensible being like him. A mystery with two keys for one answer. The truth that can be the answer for two consequences.

Two halves that descend from only one coil.

"Here you are," I pass him a cup of coke as we sit back on our table and put the burger trays on the surface. "I suppose you've had a lot of fun here."

He smiles brightly and slowly unwraps his burger. "Of course! This is the first time I've ever gone out with one of my friends!" He rewraps the paper around the lower half of the burger. "As a Crusader, I didn't have much time to relax, so when you invited me out, I got really excited."

"I see," I grab the left ear of the black cat and pull it gently, making the toy lean slightly towards me. "I wonder what it feels like when you have to endure all the tension and responsibilities as a Crusader for two frigging centuries…"

The redhead starts stirring his drink by the straw. "What I do everyday is observing people, and sometimes I just wonder why they're scared of being around the mansion." He takes a small sip before continuing. "I mean, ghosts do exist, but they're only figures without a solid body, and at least they've been human for a while. They're only there because of an unfinished task, and instead of staying away from them, or worse, trying to force them to disappear by those fake exorcism methods, we should help them to complete their jobs." He lets out an anguished breath. "Perhaps wondering about humans' intelligible weaknesses and fears has been my routine ever since I started noticing my own existence."

"It's quite depressing, isn't it?" I smile apologetically. "To observe and understand people, but not to be able to do anything to help them…"

He doesn't reply but looks down at the table, displaying deep agony. Blame that person who's locked him inside that mansion and taken away his freedom… But even if he's free now and is given a chance to voice his thoughts, no one will listen to him, even though everything he says is the truth. For example, those that believe in ghosts are usually scared of them and think that they're hideous beings that should be eliminated, while those that aren't scared of ghosts don't believe in their existence. Neither of them can help those spirits to accomplish their goals and truly put them to rest, and that's why there are still ghosts in need of salvation but are neglected and avoided.

See? People nowadays are trying to even get away from the truth. How ironic.

"But at least…" He speaks as if trying to get all the words out. "I've understood that the truth is not always accepted…"

Yeah… Usually people say that truths can hurt more terribly than lies, that's why there are such things as "cheating" and "deceit." But when the truth is discovered, it turns out to be the lies that hurt worse. No, the fact that people lie is the true thing that hurts, because lies are something humans have made up to hide their mistakes or just for fun. If they know that lying can hurt themselves and the ones they love, why do they have to try to get away from the truth?

Is it because the truth is something that can hurt, too?

Or is it because people see the truth as something inappropriately accepted?

"Let's not talk about it," the redhead suggests after a deep sip of the soft drink from the ivory-colored paper cup. "To brighten our day a bit, let's go grab some Häagen-Dazs in the supermarket later, OK? I've always want to try some."

Häagen-Dazs? Oh, right, the ice cream I was thinking of buying for him back in the night of the first battle. It seems his hobby has something to do with cold and sweet things, too. Apparently he knows about the ice cream brand, being the keeper of the truth, but even though the truth is the same for every eye and ear, it differs in each person's taste and sense of smell and touch. That's why from the same food, one person can like it but another can't.

"Sure," I smile thinking of our delightful sweet dessert. "Let's try vanilla or strawberry. These flavors seem to suit you perfectly." I chuckle softly seeing his confused, _truly_ confused, expression. "I don't know why, but whenever I see a strawberry ice cream container, I kind of think about your hair. And vanilla… I have no idea, either. Perhaps I think you're a sweet friend or something like that. Yeah, that's got to be it."

My smile brightens seeing the redhead blinking at my explanation, then beaming brightly also. "Really? You think I'm a nice friend?" He grabs my hands affectionately, making me think if there wasn't a table between us, he'd glomp me with a huge hug. "Oh thanks a lot, Moyashi-chan! Thank you very much!"

For an unknown reason I'm not feeling bothered by the supposedly nagging nickname the shinshoku has given me. Maybe it's because it's being used by a person who's not as annoying and hot-tempered; in fact, Lavi is neither of those personalities. Or maybe it's because he's the kind of person who needs love and appreciation as much as he needs to fulfill his duty, so even though he's using the nickname, I can't bring myself to show my offense. That's also why I've accepted to be his Contractor, or to be more precise, his best friend, and show him the life outside his box.

To think of it, I can be the only person who's inappropriately accepted the truth by how it should be.

"Alright! Let's finish our lunch and go grab some Häagen-Dazs!"

---

_The dragonfly, with its stick-shaped emerald-green body and energetic transparent wings, soared gracefully in the empty space, high above the butterfly. It seemed to be inviting, or encouraging, something before flying far away._

---

"Are you alright now?" I ask the redhead sitting in front of me, who's just engaged in another battle with the demoniac black wolf and got an injury on his hand. "This wound looks bad… I can't believe that fire wolf didn't get you burnt."

The redhead nods, trying to act like it's not a big deal. "I guess… I still have a little luck left."

Saying so, it's already the fifth encounter, and the wolves were much stronger than before. "Say, forcing yourself is bad." I take his left hand on my palm, trying not to hurt him more, since the wound is bad enough. "You shouldn't drain your energy like that even if it's checkmate… It's bad for your health, you know."

The redhead nods with the same gentleness as the cotton fabric lightly touches the bleeding wound. I know that even if I could learn how to touch a wound with the slightest movement, I could never fully prevent the pain. That's how life is, never letting the pain be fully healed. Not only does he follows that rule strictly, he also reflects it perfectly. He's the keeper of the truth, after all.

Or maybe, he's the personification of the truth itself.

Trying to ignore the pain, he turns his gaze to the starry sky outside the window silently, as if he hasn't seen such a beautiful scenery before. I also follow his gaze and realize why he seems to be so mildly interested: Usually it's very hard to find a single glimpse of a star when we stay in the city, but today, even inside a mansion near the center of the city, we can still observe a dazzling myriad of stars that looks like endless streams and droplets of light performing their eternal dance on the deep blue platform of the universe. Eyes of a variety of colors look down at us and sparkle in mesmerizing patterns as the stars glitter in their whitish flow, and it's probably the first time I feel so interested about stargazing.

"The stars…" He murmurs absent-mindedly. "They're so beautiful… Aren't they?"

I only look at him in confusion. It seems he isn't sure that he's seeing the stars, or it's like he isn't sure he can actually see the stars twinkling right before his vision. "Yes, they're always beautiful."

"This scenery, too…" He closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. "It's always like this… Isn't it?"

"…Yes, it never changes," I speak out the only answer I can think of.

"I know it never changes." He closes his eyes briefly, as if trying to memorize the vista he's observing. "I have been observing everything ever since I knew I can see, that's why even things change in such a rapid pace, I always feel like they just stay the same, every time." He returns to his so-called star-gazing and starts bringing his thoughts deep into the sky. "Before I knew it, my eyes have been in the sky," he admires the twinkling spots with a faint smile. "Not just my eyes, but my mind and my true identity… Almost everything that belongs to me is floating up there. Perhaps this body and these eyes you know… are only for interacting with everything I'm supposed to see but not to touch."

He sighs vaguely, his gaze still glued to the sky. "There, the scenery that you're viewing… I'm not just the observer of it, but I'm the scenery itself. It's hard to comprehend, even to me, but so far, I've achieved that even if I'm here, I'm also everywhere. He even said I've seen beyond the physical limit of myself." He stops briefly to get some air. "People live inside sceneries that are pieces of me, and even I'm lying inside a piece of myself. It's funny, isn't it?" He laughs bitterly and falsely. "I'm still wondering how it's possible to omit myself from my own view. I can still see your face and the trees, and at the same time I can see the stars and the night sky, but I can never get the image of myself even with a mirror. Like, I exist to you and other people, but I don't exist to myself. Does that mean that I've died, but at the same time I'm still living?"

I silently listen to him, not wanting to interrupt his confidential monologue. So that's why he knows everything despite having been locked inside the mansion for two hundred years. He observes, but he never truly knows the feelings that occur whenever we observe. Simply because he didn't get the meaning of vicissitude, because he's been so used to observing the changing world that the excitement or disappointment that are supposed to be felt are incomprehensible. No, it isn't the world that's changing, it's himself who's unconsciously changing, or being changed. Everything changes, and he does, too, which make both being the same. No wonder why he doesn't seem to take any interest in the life that never stays the same.

"I'm not sure, but because my mind is up there, I'm not supposed to be able to think with this body, right?" He asks although knowing he won't receive any answer. "I mean, it feels like my mind is in the sky, but my feelings and my soul are inside this body. It feels strange when my mind is divided into halves, in which one has the scenery imprinted deeply inside it, and the other only takes the view right in front of my eyes. I see you here, and I also see people that I don't know, walking in places I haven't been to before… I don't know who the real me is, perhaps because I'm the scenery where I'm inside, while at the same time I'm the body inside the scenery that's myself. Don't you think it's an inappropriate fact that I've been enduring all the time?"

I don't understand the feeling of looking down and looking up at the same time, but I do understand the confusion he's feeling about himself. He's still wondering whether he exists or not, being able to control his speech, activities and emotions inside the artificial body, while unable to see himself in the scenery that's actually… himself. How can he control himself when he can't see himself? Still, he's been following such a contradiction ever since he was created, although not understanding why he should do so and why he's doing so. Even though he's still confusing over the fact, I've already reached my own conclusion: He's actually living as two beings, the Crusader who takes a form of a teenage human, and the atmosphere whose eyes observe everything above the sky.

He's the world where humans and every other existences live inside, but because he's also seeing things from a humanoid body, he can never see himself.

Have you ever been able to see youself without the help of any kind of mirrors or reflective objects?

If you were able to do so, I bet that you were seeing a doppelgänger.

I once described his appearance for him, because he's asked me to do so. He listened like he's never heard of it before, like it's the only thing not obvious to the truth. He can never see his reflection in the mirror, because the reflective thing can only reflect what the scenery sees, not what _he_ sees. That's why, even though he has two existences to know about, he can never feel he's truly alive.

Because he sees that the others exist, but he doesn't see himself existing.

It's not only that he's the scenery, but he's also the space where every sentient and insentient creature exists. There are natural elements, animals, humans, buildings, concepts, knowledge, languages…; anything that can be described by words, ever since the universe was born, has been staying together inside a garden that we generally call "space." Saying "no space" is absolutely wrong, because even a tiny, one-square-millimeter area is still called a "space." Everything must have a space to take place, which can be either outside or inside our minds. Time can only be approximate, but space is always the best of everything considered "ultimate" and "paradox."

I guess, if he's been seeing things, then he must've known the crimes that occur everywhere. Everything must have a space to take place; I've told you so. He always lets them go, because a world where only good and fairness exist doesn't deserve to be called the right world for human beings. But because of the cruelty that he's been observing, he's been infected with a deep impulse for killing. _"I've always had the slightest impulse of killing directed at you…" _He said so after the night of the first battle against Deception. But Death is serious, and perhaps he understands it so well so as not to randomly pick up his Valstyg Friga and stab me and everyone else like a true murderer.

"Hey…" I think I'm trying to call for his attention although knowing he's sitting very close to me, but my voice sounds very much like a meaningless whisper. "I know I'm not meant to ask this, but… Do you know anything about the mysterious massacre that occurred about a month ago?"

The redhead blinks a few times before a small smile again appears on his face. "Maybe I do, but maybe I don't," he seems to be acting sarcastic. "His form is as fake as his name, but because we still know who he is, that's why his existence is true." I spot a brief presence of thoughtfulness on his face. "I know that each criminal saw the outline of a giant wolf before he was killed, which was supposed to mean Deception was the killer. But because my thoughts have been imprinted with a concept that his existence and, therefore, his actions are all fake, the other side of my mind developed a conclusion that the killer was 'nobody.' Like I'm thinking he has both the true and fake parts at the same time. I feel whenever I talk about him, I become hysterical or some sort…" He chuckles slightly as if thinking his "monologue" is hysterical, too. "Perhaps he also has an impulse of killing, but he can't control it like I can. Beings seeking for the meaning of their lives often engage in killing, but I don't really understand why…"

He's actually voiced the confusion I've been having. The Crusader's also trying to find out the reason for him to exist, isn't he? So what role does his impulse of killing hold? Perhaps that impulse has become unbearable for Deception, so it killed anyone who no longer deserved their lives, like the criminals who had been sentenced death but escaped a week ago. Perhaps Deception has a heart of kindness, too, so as not to kill innocent civilians.

As he rechecks his newly bandaged hand, his smile is stretched slightly wider. "Sometimes I wonder if he's truly the personification of lies when the fakeness that he wears is true. I mean, lies are supposed to be always fake, and nothing that belongs to them is true. The form he's taking is fake, but his existence is true, so he's not the representative of lies. In fact, I think lies don't have any representative at all." He chuckles silently as if trying to express his bitterness about the fact. "That's why I feel I'm not fighting against the personification of lies, but rather that of the 'hidden truth.' Isn't 'Deception' supposed to mean 'lying by hiding away the truth'? How ironic…"

I also chuckle thinking about his comment. So Deception is actually the so-called "hidden truth," huh? That's why it covers itself in lies, but the truth is still lying beneath, deeply hidden. Yes, that's the true meaning of "Deception." A creature who hides away the true meaning of its existence by making a façade of "fakeness" and possessing "fake" figures to fight. A despicable creature who takes on a fake name of "Deception."

No. It's not "Deception," but the "hidden truth."

Just a half of the truth, distincting itself from the Crusader sitting across the table. So I guess the opposite of the "hidden truth" is, if my mother tongue's vocabulary can provide the right word, the "exposed truth." The kind of truth visible to humans' concept, which anyone can see and feel. The kind of truth that can be found inside this endless scenery where everything we've known about exists. The kind of truth that Lavi knows and is born from.

Still, why did Lavi's creator have to extract him and "Deception" from the original truth?

"It's something I don't know, either," replies the redhead with a deep sigh, indicating I've voiced my question out loud. "My creator said nothing to me before leaving me behind, and I've had to figure everything out by myself ever since. I don't understand why everything related to him was erased after his Death… No, it wasn't exactly erased, but 'hidden' somewhere where I can't reach." The last sentence is spoken quietly and sadly, like he's resentful about something. It's like he feels frustrated and confused about his creator leaving him no clue and explanation about the truth he's been searching for, or just about the meaning of his existence. He left, and so did his explanations about everything.

Which means the redhead has only been _seeing_ and _hearing_ the truth, but perhaps there are still things that he can't _understand_.

"Perhaps… it's that place where even truth and lies don't exist," murmurs the redhead as he draws out the most possible, but seemingly the most upsetting, guess. "It's the farthest place he could reach, and also the best place to hide everything without the interference of any kind of force. It's where my concept can never reach; that's why I still feel confused about what I don't know but is hidden away from me." He lets out a hopeless sigh. "I think he knows the reason why we were extracted from the basic 'truth,' and why we've been fighting without an explanable reason. Maybe he also knows the abilities Deception possesses, and even why you were the only one being chased. My explanation and advice to you was just partly right, because aside from you there are also a few more people who can attract spirits and such. I guess it was Deception who has some kind of plan on you so as to create fake spirits with characteristics I've already described, or it was another truth yet to be revealed by my creator…"

If I weren't letting his words flow out like I am right now, I'd gasp. So that's why I was chased all the time? I and I alone? Perhaps Deception, no, the "hidden truth," has predicted that I'd be Lavi's Contractor, and in order not to let the Crusader be released from his box, it's been trying to eliminate me to prevent Fate from happening. Didn't it know Fate is an unchangeable thing, and everything in the universe has already been settled the way it is? There's no way to change Fate, but there are multiple ways to follow it, either strictly or not. That's how things have been existing ever since the beginning.

Without any kind of reasonable explanation.

Why Fate is the law of every law, the decider of every decision, and the arranger of every arrangement is unknown. It functions the way it likes, but for an obscure reason it knows it shouldn't stop. As if when Fate came to rest, everything immediately returned to nothingness. Perhaps that's why Fate keeps itself busy just to keep things in existence.

Just like what the "space" is trying to do.

If time stopped, everything froze, but they wouldn't end. However, if space did the same thing, then just like when Fate erased itself from the list, everything returned to nothingness. Everything, even "blackness," "transparency," "hollowness" and "emptiness" wouldn't exist. They only vanished, leaving behind something that had no name and no appearance. Something that made no sense and held no existence for itself.

Maybe that "something" lies inside that hallowed eye under the leather half-mask.

Every time I see the orb glowing in such vivid colors, I think about the moment when everything returned to "nothingness." Even with those beautiful colors that depict the world and the fearful power that can destroy any kind of existence, the eye is possibly nothing more than a minimized void that gives out everything inside it and takes nothing to itself. Deep inside that orb lays nothing. No will. No intention. No impression. No affection. Completely nothing.

Simply, the orb is just what Lavi sees about himself. Aside from fighting to finish the lifelong conflict, he has no other intention to live by. Even the scenery can't see its doll self because he has no meaning of existence. He's here and there, but he's hollow and transparent. Like a fallen leaf that drifts lifelessly in a stream, waiting until it gets devoured by the fierce waterfall before its vision, he can only wait until his destiny is fulfilled, and so is the completion of his existence.

Saying that he has one intention of living, but in truth, he has none.

He invited me to a sleepover. That's good for him, since I think he can have a good sleep with someone he trusts beside him. Maybe he always tries to let everything fly out before letting unconsciousness dominate. At least when his eyes are closed, he won't have to worry about the lack of his existence inside the scenery that's himself. And he won't have to worry about why he's always been feeling emptiness and confusion about his own existence. He won't have to worry about his worst nemesis but also the other half of himself. He won't have to worry about his duty to protect everything that exists inside this endless scenery. He won't have to worry about anything.

It's time to let someone else worry about things for him. He just needs a good rest, after all.

---

People don't go out much in the rain. Literally.

That's what I've learnt from a random walk in an evening rain. The street isn't as crowded as when the sky's clear or when it's snowing, especially on Christmas Day. I wonder why writers, poets and composers create so many things that praise the rain, while in truth not many people are fond of it. As if those literary artists are trying to convince people to truly admire the beauty of the rain, of its cool, sometimes chilling, atmosphere and the raindrops shot at the ground relentlessly but still tenderly and, likely, alive; as if they're trying to convince people to see a beautiful truth hidden in every raindrop that this kind of "God's tears" or even "dirty water" is actually the life of many living creatures on Earth, their efforts are all proven meaningless.

They might need to reconsider the fact that humans hate the cold. Basically, they feel uncomfortable staying in cold places, and scientifically, cold atmospheres cause illnesses with symptoms such as sneezing, running noses, fevers and so on. So does the wetness on the skin, which just makes everything worse. Especially on girls, who'd never like to have their hair and clothes soaked by the so-called "dirty water." So why do writers and poets have to waste paper and ink to write about something that no one really likes? As if the rain is their best source of inspiration, they keep on pursuing their distant dream of convincing people into loving something they've been avoiding with raincoats, umbrellas, and most importantly, large box-like structures called "houses." The writes' efforts are poured into the sea and can never achieve anything for them. Those poor artists… They just don't know when to stop.

If you want to know what kind of situation I'm in right now so as to be bored enough to think of such trivial things, I shall summarize it in a simple way so all of you can understand.

Well, so I was planning to visit Lavi and give him more of his favorite ice cream, but he seems to be out, and right when I was about to go find him, it started to rain.

Just what does Lady Fate think, anyway?

Right at that moment, right when I started thinking…

My fair Lady.

I can only hope that he's not getting stuck in another fight, since that wound on his hand still hasn't healed.

If he's just wandering around, that's fine by me.

If that means I'm stuck here now, I'd better find something to do to get rid of this boredom.

At least I have this book in my backpack. The swordsman gave it to me just before he had to go back to the shrine, but for an unknown reason he seemed to be really worried. Great, that bastard knows to worry… What am I joking about? Perhaps he does know worry, but is that because of this book? He gave it to me, and returned to his shrine…

Wait, but that direction he was going wasn't the way to his shrine.

I wouldn't like to care about where he was going, if it's not my business.

He wouldn't like anyone to interfere in what he does, after all.

I take the book out and observe it carefully. It looks old, with the brown cover also coated in black and gray dust that doesn't look removeable, and there's no title or number printed on it. It seems like some kind of secret project of ancient people, but if it's a secret, how did the swordsman, or anyone at the shrine, find it, and why did he give this to me saying, "It's something that only you should know, and don't give it to anyone else"?

It's really something serious in here.

The book is written in English. Right after reading the first lines I know it's written, or perhaps collected, by many sorcerers. Maybe they translated everything into English so that everyone could understand… But it's supposed to be kept a secret, and in order to do that everything must be retained in that sorcerous language, right? It's like they knew there'd be an ordinary human who'd read this book so as to prepare everything in the right language.

It's like they'd predicted that _I_'d be the one who finally reads their collection.

Let's see… There are names like "Komui Lee," "Reever Wenhamn," "Froi Tiedoll," "Cloud Nine," "Winter Zokalo…" The swordsman's talked about these people with – perhaps you won't believe it – respect, because, according to what he's said, they're among the most renowned sorcerers who'd been cooperating in collecting information that's rarely heard or not at all known in the sorcery world. And perhaps this is their achievement: a collection of some of the most mysterious facts about sorcery. I find this book much more interesting than any kind of encyclopedias I've ever read (at least it is), even though the book has quite few drawings and the writing is relatively difficult to understand…

Is that bastard planning to get me into learning sorcery with him?

Not likely.

I've already read more than half of the book, but nothing seems to be really able to make the swordsman so worried. There's got to be something in here that's serious enough to make him want to let me know, and that something is definitely somewhere in the other half of this book. Why didn't he give me only the copy of those pages instead of the whole book, which is as heavy as my grocery bag every time my fridge is empty?

If he thinks I'm too stupid to understand all of his lessons…

My father taught me karate when I was in sixth grade.

He'll have to pay for his terrible (and perhaps also mortifying) misunderstandings.

I stop at a page with a large bold title. "Crusaders," printed in Old English font. So this is what the shinshoku wants to show me… I slowly read through the pages; I think reading slowly is the best way to absorb information in books and other types of documents that requires reading. If the information in this book can make the swordsman worried, it must be something shocking and related to the important factors we've been questioning ourselves about. Knowing so, having our confusion answered is supposed to be a good thing, so again, why should the swordsman be worried?

Like the Crusader has once commented, "humans can be so complicated sometimes."

It sure is a detailed encyclopedia, even though the information about Crusaders and their Master "is supposed to be hidden in the dark," according to this book. It says that Crusaders were only "puppets," because they were emotionless and only acts according to what their Master told them to. They had no thoughts, no memories and no feelings for themselves, and they couldn't even notice their own empty coils. They were defeated one by one by the omnious being of lies, undoubtedly "Deception," and from the failure of the first among the "dolls," the next versions were equipped with the Death Perception Psychokinesis, an ability gained by close encounters with Death. Encountering it means being able to see and feel it. No wonder why…

He is really different from those of his kind. Not externally, but interiorly. His mind, his thoughts, his memories… Everything that truly belongs to him is different.

Everything that truly belongs to him isn't just "emptiness" and "confusion."

That "everything" is also what belongs to human beings.

I slowly read through the information, since this is the most interesting part of this hell of a book. Maybe the swordsman wanted me to read about the Crusaders only, since the bookmark is right at the first page of the article. I wonder if this is an emergency, but it takes a while to read a whole topic that I don't know how long it is.

The next three pages are used to explain the functions of Death Perception Psychokinesis and the healing power called "White Serenity." The Psychokinesis Magic sure has nothing to explain, and I'm not really surprised to know the "White Serenity" is the ability to erase the physical appearance of any kinds of wounds and damages. That sure explains why I could still feel pain after that wound on my hand disappeared, and why the blood dripped on the ground didn't return to my body. I peek at my hand, which has fully healed, and let out a deep sigh. If only the Crusader could heal himself also… The pain would be much less painful.

A whole page printed in italic catches my attention. I didn't truly focus on the information I read before this, because the Crusader has briefly told me all about it. It's like… an old story, since this kind of literature is rarely used in modern times. I read and read, and my eyes widen in shock. Is this really… the truth? What the Crusader has been searching for? What he really craves to know?

Why couldn't he see it, when this book is inside the space which he is?

Or perhaps…

The swordsman has just found it from the space where nothing exists.

I gasp again, realizing that the bastard has broken the law of sorcery which states that the space of nothingness – no, that doesn't even exist in that space – must not be invaded by any means.

So that means… that sorcerer has also invaded the space.

But… why?

That reason he'd given for his enforced solitude doesn't help me at all.

Is it because I can't understand that reason, or is it because I can, but I can't accept the fact that he'd left his creation all alone, dealing with his own trauma without any helping hand?

Suddenly, or perhaps Fate has arranged it to happen, a piece of paper falls from inside the book, right behind where I am. Maybe it's torn from a notebook, since I can see horizontal blue lines that are the same as in my notebook. I pick it up and read the quickly-written words on it.

_When you see this piece of paper, go find the Crusader immediately._

This certainly belongs to the swordsman. Following his request, I close the book abruptly and runs downstairs. It's raining, but that doesn't matter. As long as I know this is an emergency that has something to do with the redhead, I'm always prepared to help. But why should I go find him after I find the piece of paper?

"_Perhaps our conflict would end after we realized our reason to exist…"_

The words echo in my head like the sound of the church bell. He said it like it wouldn't come true, but now it has. The book is regained, and so is his reason of existing. I'm the one who opened the book so as to let him see the story of his past and also a prediction of his future. I'm the one he's been looking for. Why can I be so stupid not to notice such a simple fact that I'm not that weak? That I'm completely capable of helping him?

I feel like hating myself even more because of my pessimism.

I'm not that weak, and that's why he's put all of his trust on me.

I don't want anyone to see my tears, even though the rain pouring on my face can hide them all.

The swordsman is standing in the rain silently. Perhaps he's been waiting for me even without his raincoat. I don't know, or maybe I wouldn't like to know, what his punishment has been for his rule-breaking action, but at least I'm really thankful for him. Without a word, we run together to an undecided destination. Wherever it is, we must find the Crusader to protect him. To protect the truth that has been protecting us even if we don't know about its existence. To protect the most precious thing among everything.

The final battle has begun.

---

_Then the butterfly realized something. _

* * *

 **seventh heaven ******

* * *

"Damn!" The Hunter curses as we run pass the construction site, where there's no sight of the redhead anywhere. "That Crusader… Does he know any manners not to worry us like this?"

"Please!" I urge him to go faster. "I don't care whether he's making us worried or not! The real problem is he's fighting all alone, and I don't think he can defeat the beast before facing his Death!"

He should be here somewhere, I mentally reassure myself as we run around the park. The miasma is very strong here, but not the strongest, and because of the natural instability of energy, it's very hard to orient the flow of this power. Not to mention Lavi has departed without leaving a single hint about his destination, so it can be a real pain to locate where he currently is.

"Moyashi!" The Hunter suddenly exclaims in shock. "Look up there!"

I follow the direction of his finger and widen my eyes at vivid waves that fade away as fast as their appearance on top of Fujyou Tower, from where escape a ferocious energy that nearly makes me fall. So it's the most possible that he's there, at the point where the energy's the strongest!

"Let's go!" I call for the Hunter, who's still standing in front of the park's entrance, looking unfamiliarly shocked and horrified. "If we can't prevent his death, at least we should help him defeat that monster!"

---

Come on… Just a little more… I try to calm myself down, but the worry won't let me take my eyes off the digital screen showing the number of the floors, the highest being the 32nd Floor. I can still feel the power, which means the battle is not over yet, and at least that's the only good news I've known.

Why did he just leave by himself, leaving behind only one word of farewell? I'm his friend, right, so why didn't he tell me about his departure? Is a mayfly supposed to find a place where it can wither alone, or take its last flight with its group before silhouettes of transparent wings scatter lifelessly in midair?

No. Lavi isn't the kind of person who can easily accept the settlement of Fate like that.

30… 31… 32! _Ding._

The doors split open to reveal an awesome scene. The black "wolf"'s eyes are glowing ferociously, and hovering above it are several white humanoid figures that are probably its servants. Turning my head to the opposite side, I catch Lavi's figure, whose shirt looks wet and somewhat a darker grey on his left arm that brings the faint shade of vermillion… No, it's not just a normal injury, as from a scratch near his shoulder reveals a pile of pale meat which looks like it has been twisted violently, lingering desperately on the still healthy shoulder.

And there lays his arm on the wet ground lifelessly, surrounded by a puddle of deep red blood.

I remember that cotton piece wrapped around his hand, with a faint trace of fresh blood dried on the white surface.

He glances at me briefly, then spares the same motion at his own lifeless arm lying on the wet ground.

'_That's how you get a hand to stop bleeding.'_

He smirks slightly, as if wanting to say so to me.

My heart aches as I recall the fact that he can't heal himself.

I suddenly recognize the white figures as having the same aura exuded from the monsters that chased and threatened to eat me live before. My mind clicks. That means… It was "Deception" who interfered my soul's formation to give me my ability to attract spirits, and it was also the one who controlled the demons that always pursued me. So what Lavi's said is indeed true: "Deception" is the mastermind of the pursuit targeted at me. It was trying to eliminate me so as to imprison the Crusader inside that box for a longer amount of time, and during that period it could be declared victorious against its other self.

Perhaps that's why I didn't feel my first encounter with the redhead "accidental."

The white shadows suddenly dash towards the Crusader with a loud roar, their eyes also glowing that eerie yellow color. The redhead just stands there, calm and vigilant like usual despite his injury, the Death Perception Psychokinesis decorating his right eye with its kaleidoscopic colors. Holding Valstyg Friga in his right hand while trying to ignore the pain on his currently unavailable left shoulder, he smirks at the leading shadow and, even before my consciousness can tell what's happening, slashes its head mercilessly, from where escape streaks of vivid light that probably shine the same shade as the "colorful cracks" he's once mentioned. He rushes forwards as the discarded figure falls behind his back, and jumps up to slash another two figures floating high in midair. After numerous acrobatic spins in midair, he successfully slices through four other figures and lands on the watery floor, water splashing around his feet. Corpses of the fallen figures dissolve into the water on the ground, creating an ivory shade that soon fades away as the rain continue pouring. The figures are fake, being similar to imitations of ghosts and spirits, that's why their death isn't something worth caring about.

"Such a despicable creature you are, 'Deception'," Lavi speaks to the enraged "wolf" with a sarcastic tone. "Even your current form is fake… Only your existence is something clear and true to me." Spinning the hallowed dagger cleverly, he bends down slightly, preparing for another jump. "I didn't know you're such an outrageous being that humans have created only to hurt themselves. A bold-faced liar like you doesn't deserve to live!"

The "wolf" roars in response, and hundreds of white shadows are created, floating above their possessor. The shadows all attack simultaneously, but before they can lay any damage, the Crusader dodges backwards, causing the leading figures to land on the watery ground. Obviously, some other figures nearby, which seem to be too slow to him, also share the same ending. Like how people usually see the truth as, the Crusader is acting like a true killer, with impulse of bloodthirst and ruthlessness…

Ruthlessness.

I slowly realize the Lavi fighting out there is completely different from the Lavi I know. He's acting like he enjoys killing "Deception"'s creations just to see the vividly glowing streaks lingering briefly in the air only to prove the killed ghostly figures have once existed. He's acting like he enjoys seeing the "wolf"'s rage keeping on growing and growing until it explodes.

He's acting like the deeply hidden impulse for killing has become unbearable.

Because, in truth, the scenery around him is being conquered by a vast amount of energy and a fierce murderous intention coming from both himself and the black "wolf" only known as "Deception."

He's acting as if he really wants to get rid of his true identity, his weakening emotions, and also even the very last bit of his power.

I briefly wonder if the other Crusaders can act this way, too.

But no. Those mayfly prototypes were just robotic creatures, with no remembrance and emotions, in the form of humans. They receive nothing but give away their lives easily, just because they have no will to live and obviously no sense of life, either. They get rid of nothing by themselves, but because of such an uncaring attitude, their lives become easy targets to the heartless Fate.

One can say Death is inevitable, but to them, it's nothing but the one who'll take everything they have away.

Perhaps… The realization of his will to exist has made him stronger.

The slashes have wiped out every remaining figure, leaving only "Deception" growling in utter rage, its eyes gleaming a messy mixture of aquamarine-blue and violet. Maybe that's why Lavi's arm was twisted, just like the imprisoned but escaped criminals who were all killed cruelly a month ago. He's pointed out, somewhat perplexed, that every dead body found was bent right at the "defeats," and only that factor was the cause of the scattering of the body parts. Only a supernatural ability called "Spiral Contradiction," also a Psychokinesis Magic, can cause such a brutal murder. That's what he told me when we were having a serious discussion about that inhuman and mysterious massacre.

But why… Why should the truth carry abilities that can bring back such a reminiscent sense of "murder" and "Death?"

"Seriously, I never want to kill my 'other half'," the Crusader directs the dagger at the enraged "wolf." "But you seem to be so enthusiastic in trying to defeat me, and it's not fair if you have an intention to fight and I don't, so I guess I have to also try to kill you then."

He says as if trying to get a learnt-by-heart lesson out of his mind. Like he's just trying to obtain the enthusiasm of killing, his eyes, even though seemingly strained and decorated with a fake frown, look tired and forcedly focused, and his body looks exhausted, soaked with the water cascading from Heaven. Perhaps fighting against a piece of himself isn't something he's been aiming for in his supposedly meaningless existence, which isn't even worth being called a "life." I guess he's just trying to force himself upon finishing the whole conflict only to protect one truth.

The truth must always be a whole.

The "wolf" growls, perhaps realizing it can never save its energy by creating only fake spirits as its shield, and activates its Psychokinesis Magic on the injured Crusader. Lavi jumps up and successfully dodges a tremendous tornado which seems to be chasing him by instinct instead of being controlled by the eyes. Leaping highly into the air, he shoots a Friga at the tornado, which immediately twists the dagger violently and smashes it into tiny pieces. Dropping himself back on the watery ground, he raises his vision and stares at the "wolf" nervously. As if the spiral he's just seen is uncontrollable, he seems to be worry somewhat, as he glances at me and the swordsman again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. I can only nod trying to tell him not to be distracted by us, and like our thoughts are mutual, he nods back and turns his attention back at his only rival on the battlefield.

"You're just as destructive as ever." He mutters to himself, however perfectly coherent to my ears. "I've heard of this kind of power possessed by some humans, although it's already been minimized. How did you obtain it when the truth doesn't allow such a contradiction?"

For a brief moment I thought I heard the "wolf"'s growl sounding like a snicker. _Well well… See who's questioning the truth… _I snap my head up hearing the same strange voice from before, and I'm certain that the Crusader can hear it, too. _Even if you really want to know about it, it won't be answered. The "hidden truth" is something supposed to be remained hidden for eternity, and even the best of the unusual can do nothing about it._

"Which only means you're the one breaking one of the Ultimate Rules of magic!" Hisses the Crusader as he leaps to the "wolf"'s head and is about to stab the extreme spot before sharp fangs smash his left leg brutally, and abandon the torn flesh as the beast roars painfully when the dagger stabs the back of its head before the redhead falls to the ground powerlessly. I want to run to his place so desperately, but the wounded beast, which has somehow noticed my slight motion, sends a dreadful glare at me, and I have to step back trying to hide the resentment of being unable to help my friend.

Yes, he's my friend, and even if my tongue was sentenced to be cut after this declaration, I wouldn't take it back.

I see him trying to stand up and wincing painfully as the already torn flesh is tensed by his movement. He's been trying to stand up every time he thinks he'll fall, and every time he thinks he's fallen against his Fate. He's never given up and let everything go like the others of his kind, who only exist like the sand that can be easily blown away by even the slightest wind.

He's apparently much, much stronger than any of those ordinary humans who all know the meaning of "surrender" and "giving up."

Seeing that trembling body trying to stay stable on weakened legs, with one already torn and broken, to continue the fateful battle is heart-breaking. He's trying to end his final battle and also his most important purpose of existence. _"I know I can never escape from my Fate, so why not just valiantly standing up and facing it like it was really my purpose of life?" _He told me so, straightforwardly and sternly even though out of a whim, like we were actually discussing a certain topic. Perhaps he exists in this mortal world also to fight and fight until he achieves his, no, his master's, goal to annihilate, or just to tame, the "hidden truth." The truth, no matter how much pain it has to endure, never pays any attention to its marred body, but instead it keeps on trying so desperately to continue its existence just to keep the others exist. Neither can exist without each other, apparently.

He's fighting for the sake of everything, which also means he's fighting for the sake of himself.

He's trembling and bleeding so badly. Bruises and scratches cover his weakened body, and worse, one of his legs is incapable of moving, and his left arm has been twisted and torn from his shoulder. He can't continue fighting alone like this, because losing means both failing to his own purpose and Death. Why can't I do anything to help the best friend I can have in this endless universe? The only thing I can do is living inside a world that's fighting and destroying itself to protect me and many things else. We need to be benevolent, if that's the only thing we can do for the universe we're living inside. But now, even if I'm given a chance to be benevolent, I can't do anything to help, being just a mortal who can never truly stand up to face the challenges of Death. Why can't I fight against my own fear and cowardliness, like he's always done?

I'm about to rush forwards to his place when a long arm stops me right at my track. "It's useless even if you can help," the Hunter speaks indirectly to me, his eyes glued to the scene before us. "Ordinary humans, no, every mortal in this world can't interfere with Fate. He's fighting against his own Fate just because he has realized his true intention of existing, so it's better to leave him be… Nothing can be helped right now."

I realize I'm shaking so violently that I'd probably explode. Why can't I help him, not even just a little bit? Why can't I just disrupt Fate because of my bond with him? Why can I only be the one who helped him discover his meaning of existence instead of Fate?

Why can't I make him feel the love of his comrades and friends by my own heart?

A quick leap, and he's already on the beast's back trying to lay a blow on its neck. The dagger's already right under its muzzle, but it's struggling and roaring so fiercely that it makes the redhead have a difficult time trying to just seizing its neck. Clamping the beast's neck by his right and only arm, he flips the dagger and lays scratches on the "wolf"'s neck that are severe enough to make it roar in pain. Judging from his grimacing expression that probably comes from the torn flesh of the injured shoulder hitting the body of the beast continuously, I know he can't continue this any further. Just as I'm about to run off, knowing that I have to ignore the swordsman's potential protests and such…

_Thud._

Before I can register what's just happened, my eyes avert to a random place and spot Lavi leaning on the wall, or more precisely just the debris and the dust from the horrible crash. Blood drips again, this time on his head from the temples, and his black jacket looks even more torn and miserable than before. His eyes are hidden under the blood-soaked bangs, and his pale lips are parted just to gasp for more air. He can't take this any longer, I know it for sure. A wound on that "wolf" equals five to him, and if that calculation of mine is right, he won't have much possibility of winning this fight. Or perhaps he's known his chances of victory are low from the beginning, yet still wants to risk his own life just because he has things to protect. A scream escapes from my throat before I can stop it, or perhaps make it more anguished or furious. I can't even help him with his wounds, since he can't heal himself, and this is the first time in my life I've truly felt so stupid and useless.

When the dust's fully gone, the "wolf" is nowhere to be seen.

I widen my eyes in both horror and confusion. Even if it's the "hidden truth," it can't just disappear like a bunch of sand blown away by the carefree wind.

"A-Argh!"

A painful groan definitely comes from Lavi's place. He couldn't have stood up, I know he couldn't, because this pain seems even worse than that caused by torn flesh and broken bones. It's like he's being… suffocated… I quickly rotate my head to the pile of debris he's lying on.

I nearly burst out crying.

Maybe it's not just the "hidden truth" which is intriguing.

The whole truth itself is a truly shocking existence.

"Long time no see… Lavi."

Kneeling in front of the injured redhead, a hand seizing his bruised neck firmly, is, heart-breakingly, another Lavi. So this is the true form of "Deception," Lavi's other half. They can't be this similar, can they? Lavi's so kind and gentle and understanding and… And that beast, "Deception," is just a monster who's trying to obtain the cruel taste of blood and murder. The halves of "reality" have joined, but why should this reunion turn into a battle of life and death?

Why should the truth shatter because of an internal conflict between its two halves?

Is that because the truth was so perplexed about its existence that its halves mistook each other as their enemies, and has been trying to kill each other just to figure out the true meaning of its existence?

No, the truth is always true, so inside it, even "fakeness" can become real.

If there's a concept of "no space," it's only applied to lies.

"You think I can't feel the same pain as you?" The other Lavi speaks as if trying to suppress a painful cry, his hand tightened around the Crusader's neck. "Didn't you say that we're birds of the same feathers? We're one and exist only as oneself and for the sake of oneself. Don't you remember that… Lavi?"

The Crusader winces as he realizes he's being suffocated. He grits his teeth trying to erase the feeling of pain from his mind, and his eyes are trying to open, although only half-lidded, to prevent him from fainting. Both of them are desperate, knowing that no matter who the winner is, the battle only proves meaninglessness. Even so, they also know that they must fight no matter what the consequences will be, even if that also means standing up against themselves.

For an unknown reason, they're trying to kill each other.

For an unknown reason, they're trying to kill themselves.

Like they're competing for something that they only have one chance to achieve, and this is the time for them to finally decide who's the real and more worthy winner of the battle.

They're so similar, from the outside to the inside.

Those criminals were killed just because the "hidden truth" wanted to expose the meaning of "Death" and "murder." At least that's what Lavi and I think.

In contrast, the Crusader has already had that sense inside his mind, and it's ready to explode at any time. Like he's said before, he has always have an intention of murder directed at anyone he can see, including me.

The "hidden truth," probably because he's the "exposed truth"'s opposite, lacks whatever the Crusader knows, and vice versa.

That's why he knows the way to break that Ultimate Rules and obtain the forbidden ability, but he doesn't know how to create the Valstyg Friga.

They're so similar, yet so different.

Laboriously, the Crusader creates another Friga and stabs his other self's wrist forcefully. Both of them groan at the same time – they're experiencing the same pain, after all – and the "hidden truth" releases his grip on the other's neck. He takes a few steps backwards, his unharmed hand holding the stabbed wrist firmly as if the method could ease the pain, while the Crusader slowly stands up, his figure supported by the wall stained with his own blood. They glare at each other fiercely, perhaps just to wait for one of them to launch an attack first. Knowing that hurting each other also means hurting themselves, they still stand up to continue fighting. As if things aren't intriguing enough, they keep on going against themselves, probably only to realize the one and only thing they've been searching for ever since they knew about their existences.

What exactly are they searching for?

No, what exactly are making them believe that they're searching for it?

Perhaps it's something that can influence their thoughts and belief on everything and even themselves. Both of them have been seeking for only the meaning of their existences, after all.

Which only means…

That's something which can change the truth forever.

They restart their crazy fight with Lavi throwing himself towards the "hidden truth," the dagger ready to lay an attack on the other's head. The other redhead – I might want to refer to him as "LAVI" from now on – dodges the thrust as soon as it almost slices through a few strands of his red hair, and activates his Spiral Contradiction aiming for the Crusader's chest. The dagger, supported with Death Perception Psychokinesis, cuts through the "defeat" of the deadly tornado almost instantly as the Crusader jumps up and prepares for the next attack from midair. Like a hawk diving upon its prey, he lets gravity pull himself towards his other self, the dagger already risen with its point directed right at the "hidden truth"'s head, its previous target. He lands right after his nemesis dodges the attack, again successfully, and the water around him bursts up like a clear flower that withers as soon as it blooms.

Everything is just so suffocating.

Feeling the ground beneath his feet, without much consideration, he rushes forwards for the next attack. Suddenly, the concrete floor breaks into pieces by an invisible force, and obviously, it's the Spiral Contradiction that has just destroyed the floor and is aiming for its real target – the Crusader. The tornado follows the fleeing Crusader tremendously, making blocks of concrete float in midair, creating a dusty wall of concrete and wind following the redhead's trace. But the redhead doesn't know giving up; he changes his direction rapidly to dodge both the tornado and the blown up concrete ready to fall on his head or injure the other parts of his body at any time. Noticing a chance to attack, he jumps up suddenly and as quickly as not to let his other self's gaze follow him, and prepares for not another slash but a kick. Just like his other previous attacks, the kick is dodged successfully, but to the "hidden truth"'s dismay, there's a side attack ready for the Friga to go. Turning his body a bit for the attack, the Crusader raises his dagger forwards, and finally, the thrust creates a severe wound on the other redhead's shoulder, which is perhaps torturous enough to make both of them cry out painfully.

Descending from a single coil, they have no choice but to feel the same thing simultaneously, no matter if the feeling belongs to the body or the heart.

I jolt as a demoniac hiss is heard from above, and it's revealed to be a ghostly figure. Its shape is just like that of the demons that were chasing me and threatening to devour me alive, like the combination between a vampire and the Japanese oni. I didn't expect my lifelong nightmare to appear right now, and my body freezes out of fear and panic. Before my mind can register what's going to happen next, a long and shiny blade of a katana has already sliced through the monster, leaving its corpse vanishing like a mere block of fog. I realize the Hunter has been nearly forgotten ever since we made our first steps onto this place, but he never forgets his "duty" to eliminate monsters, as a Hunter of Ise Jinguu. His kenjutsu is just as fascinating as I've already witnessed before, when he was first seen using it to get rid of a demon troop chasing me when I first stepped on the ground of my current school.

I owe him a proper thank-you, which is probably not just by words, for that.

More and more figures appear, their hisses shaking the ground beneath me voilently. An ordinary human can't do anything against supernatural beings, right? I've tried hitting them with a bat, but the object just go through their bodies before being burnt and turned to ashes. Does that mean only people who know magic and supernatural beings can fight them? Does that mean humans always think of themselves as "powerful" and "brilliant," but they are instead weak and helpless against things that they are scared of?

The Hunter once told me the same thing about ordinary humans being pathetically weak compared to even the least powerful supernatural force, but he also expressed his hope of me not getting involved in practicing magic. It's simply because he thinks that if I did learn magic, I'd soon get involved in various kinds of competitions and even wars between sorcerers, magicians and warlocks who want to prove themselves the strongest and most capable of being the leader of all. But what if I refused to join such competitions and used my magic only to support him and my friends? He said that many magic users think that way, too, but no matter what their opinions are, they must engage in those competitions nonetheless.

Even sorcerers, humans who've surpassed the limit of "ordinary," can't turn against Fate.

Everything has been planned and settled by Lady Fate for a long time, and that fact can never be changed.

The demons approach us as brutally as ever. Even though knowing that there's already a person right next to me, who can protect me from my worst nightmare, I'm still afraid to open my eyes. The only thing my brain can register is a clashing sound like when metal collides with metal, and a swishing sound as if something made of metal has just come through something else… The Hunter that Lavi has proved to be my "best friend" is still continuing his dance in front of me, his katana Mugen, a weapon which can cut through anything, shining even though wet with the water pouring from the sky. I have a feeling that my saviors are all invisible around me and can appear whenever I'm in danger.

I just feel like I have guardian gods who I'm destined to be saved by every time I can feel even the slightest glimpse of Death.

Hearing a growl like someone is being suffocated, I open my eyes like an instinct, seeing the Hunter cutting through another beast's neck. Without pausing for a single moment, he approaches his third and makes a rigid slice from the demon's left shoulder to its waist of the other side. He defeats the fourth one by splitting its body in two, cutting at its stomach, and slices through the fifth's head to send it back to nothingness. Then he steps back, and lower his katana as if thinking of taking a break.

"Moyashi."

I instinctively raise my head, not knowing what he means by calling me all of a sudden. "What is it?"

He still stands right in front of me, his back facing me like he feels no need to turn back. "What's so important with trying to help that mutt realize his true intention of existing?"

I know it. I know that acting like an unemotional bastard, he still knows how to care for the ones he calls "friends." It's important to us both, but I don't want to voice that out loud, because we understand each other mutually. It's not something we're truly fighting for, but it's still important, because…

"His confusion about his reason of existence is a wound that he's been carrying ever since he knew what the world looks like around him," I reply as if I was there and had witnessed everything. "Even if we've succeeded in helping him realize that reason, the wound is still there and hurting him. I-I just want to be here so that he knows that we truly care for him. It's like… we can heal his wound. Even if it's a wound that doesn't hurt him physically…"

It still hurts him, terribly.

He can heal the katana that the swordsman cherishes because he knows the meaning of the sword to the Japanese. He can heal that cut on my palm because he doesn't want me to feel pain.

He's been giving all the pain and suffering to himself even though knowing that'll add to the wound he's been carrying all along.

I've said so because both of them are hurt, and I just want to help the whole truth, even though knowing a half of it is willing to discard me.

I don't know the reason behind that will, but I know the reason why I can sympathize with it.

It's not humans who are hurt by the truth.

It's the truth which is hurt the most all along.

The Hunter raises his sword and attacks another demon, remaining silent. We're all fighting for the same person, and we don't care if it means risking our lives. We all understand what we've been trying to do ever since we started to know Lavi, and being mortal humans, we still try to accomplish it no matter what the risk is.

We're his friends, because he sees us as such.

Even if what we're trying to accomplish is not for us, we still want to fight for it.

Unlike ordinary humans who don't truly understand the meaning of "truth," we can overcome our own selfishness.

We know the truth has been sacrificing all along, and it's time for us to repay for that benignancy.

I turn back to Lavi and his other self. The Crusader makes a thrust at the other's thigh, and quickly dodges another tornado, or perhaps just a random mess of wind, before it can bend anywhere considered his "defeat." They keep on attacking each other alternately, one after another, and neither cares to think of stopping the meaninglessness that they're fighting for. No, they're fighting for something else, and the meaninglessness is just a stand-between. Once having entered the destiny only for them, there's no way out.

Knowing so, they still continue, regardless of what comes after that ruthless Fate.

Why should it be Fate that can determine anything?

Why should Fate bring pain and suffering to the truth that is supposed to be cherished and protected?

Because of it, the truth is now broken down.

After countless jumps that have probably drained most of his energy, the Crusader gets slower and slower gradually, panting and wincing as his shoulder throbs and his lungs are squeezed by an invisible force. As the tornado finally catches him and hits him like a gigantic fist, he collapses and, due to the relentless effects of the impetus, rolls like a wooden log on the watery floor, hurting himself more. Urging himself to get up to continue fighting, he slowly stands up, even with one of his legs already injured, his dagger seized firmly in his only hand. He's in a lot of pain – I know he is for sure – but why should he endure this even if it's unnecessary for him to do so?

Why does he have to carry so much pain and suffering only because he wants to take responsibility for sins that aren't his?

One leap to dodge another hit, and the tornado blows up more concrete and mix it with its original red and green glints.

A swing as quick as a gliding swallow, and his hand cuts through the dreadful tornado instantly, droplets of rain mixing with the colorful streaks of fading light.

It's like the scene is being flipped continuously.

It's like everything has been mixed into this one single moment.

As though realizing the thrusting-dodging process will lead to nowhere, the Crusader decides to risk his life once more. Not trying to jump away from the deadly tornado anymore, he tricks the circulating mass of wind into radiating behind him, and throws the Friga into midair, leaving the dagger vanishing into flickering spots of bluish light. Having his right and only arm free, he reaches it out and grabs his other self's neck exactly the way the other's grabbed his just a moment ago. Due to the force from his rush, both of them fall onto the wet concrete floor, making the water splash up around them. "LAVI" falls first on his back, his healthy hand seizing the wrist of the hand currently trying to press him down on the watery surface. The Crusader, having withstood the fall, kneels beside his other self, trying to ignore the pain from the forceful grip on his wrist as he tries his best to concentrate his energy on his only hand. They're, again, feeling the same pain, because they're always one. They're in pain not just because they've been fighting, but also because they know that they're hurting themselves because of hurting each other.

Maybe that's why both of them are seemingly about to burst into tears at any time.

"Why is that value so important to both of us?" The Crusader speaks first with a desperate low voice, his eyes hidden behind dripping bangs. "I just don't get it… Why should we fight only to change the whole truth? Why should only one of us become the whole truth but not both?"

I suddenly notice I've already collapsed on my knees. Is that why they've been fighting against each other for such a long time? The whole truth has split itself into two halves, and both of them have been fighting only to determine who is going to be the real truth that exists. Yes, there are two "truths" fighting so desperately before my eyes now, and both of them is probably thinking that the title of the real "truth" can only belong to one of them.

But why can't they be reunited as their former sole form of the truth's personification?

Perhaps it's simply because people have been trying to uncover everything they don't know, while at the same time hiding away truths that they don't think they should reveal. The former truth was split because there have been two kinds of truth existing in parallel ever since humans knew what "communication" meant. Such opposing factors have been formed only because humans want the truth while at the same time knowing how to lie, and of course, it's the truth that has to endure accusation and such.

Why is it always the truth that has to endure every kind of pain?

Why is it always the truth that everyone blames every time they make mistakes?

Why is it always the truth that is hurt the most?

"I've told you so many times; you're not worthy to be the real 'truth'!" The Crusader cries out, seemingly trying to hide the fact that he's literally crying in the raindrops. "You hid your true identity under a fake name and a canid façade that's not your true form. The truth never hides facts by lies, and you've already committed that sin! Don't you know that… The 'hidden truth'?"

He's right. The truth is never supposed to be related to lies except for being the complete opposite of it. Using lies as a tool so that he can continue his existence is something the "hidden truth," in order to achieve his position as the real "truth," is never allowed to do; in fact, it's forbidden in the world of "truths." He's lost his chance of being the real "truth" by simply committing that sin, and as a sinner he can never have a second chance. He's different from human beings, you see.

"Do you think you're different from me?" Snaps the "hidden truth," perhaps also trying to hide his tears in the flowing raindrops. "The real 'truth' isn't supposed to kill one type of existence to protect another, right? It's supposed to be biased to both types of existence, and it isn't supposed to be so badly influenced by the past! You're not the personification of any kind of truth, because even if you have the quality of everything, you're too similar to human beings! All because you have feelings and memories! Do you think you're the opposite of me? No, we're birds of the same feathers! We're the same even in our thoughts, and even in every single characteristic that each of us thinks is different! Don't you know that… The 'exposed truth'?"

His last words escape from his throat like being pushed out, and neither of them is able to speak after that. As if they've realized they've been fighting for nothing, resentment and bitterness start to coat their wounded figures. Realization has hit them much harder than they've expected. I see it now; it's hit them so hard that the wounds deep inside their hearts are torn again. Neither of them can be the more suitable personification of the truth now; in fact, neither of them can be called any part of the truth. They see so many flaws on each other, and because of that, they've realized they've fallen.

It's a tie for both of them.

Perhaps this is the best ending for both of them.

With a sudden grasp on the wrist, LAVI throws his "other half" away and escapes from the suffocation, which doesn't look like it is. A thick line of vermillion marks his previous slide, the result of being thrown downwards, and the wounds formerly on the "wolf"'s neck all gather on his back, darkening his black shirt. I just don't know what to do, so even though I really want to just run to them, I still remain at my place frozen by pain. I can't blame him or his "other half," right? It's neither's fault, anyway.

It's not because of their personal conflict that they've been engaging in a mystical war.

It's Fate that they have to fight, and the reason for their conflict is just something included in her script.

_No matter what the consequences are…_

_It's always the truth that is hurt the most._

Without a word, the Crusader stands up, not paying attention to the terrible wounds on his shoulder and his torn leg. Perhaps having recognized the tenderness he's somehow achieved to himself, he looks like not feeling any pain, although the wounds are much worse than before. Facing his "other half," who's also stood up straight, he gives him a gentle smile. It's just as sudden as every one of his impressions, and also as sincere as that which he represents. As if he's just realized something else, he smiles silently only to himself. As if he's just realized something, he smiles silently to everything he knows.

As if he's just realized something, he raises his dagger again.

And I know… I can't stop him now.

"Is this our true fight?" He speaks like a gentle whisper. Not wanting to fight meaninglessly anymore, he raises his dagger towards his "other half," calm and rigid as if knowing his Fate has been settled from now on.

Also gazing at his "other half" gently, the former "hidden truth" mimicks the smile, but it looks like it's also his true and sincere smile that he's also worn on himself. "This is our true fight," he tilts his head slightly, his figure seemingly completely relaxed unlike before. "If you've realized something for yourself."

"I have," answers the Crusader shortly, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. Looking like he's ready for anything, he loosens his grip on his dagger, letting his arm relax along his figure.

What both of them have realized, only they can know.

The air between them starts to tremble, and glints of red, green and purple continue their previous violent dance. The Crusader doesn't dodge the tornado anymore; instead, he swings his dagger right in the middle of the vivid dance, his eye glowing the color of the feeling of Death. The dance abruptly stops, and the air returns to its still state for about one second before being stirred up again. Cutting right at the second tornado's "defeats," the Crusader takes a step forwards, and slowly walks towards his "other half" while discarding the other tornadoes, one by one. The former "hidden truth" just calmly stands there, creating several tornadoes although knowing the technique no longer works as efficiently. Maybe the realization has had such a deep impact on them that it's changed drastically their ways of acting. Is it the realization that can change Fate?

Is it the realization that can change anything?

The Crusader suddenly rushes forwards, but the glints in the air disappear like making a way for him to move. Like an arrow throwing itself towards its target, he directs his dagger right at the other's chest, aiming for the decisive attack. It's a strange sound that I don't know how to describe, along with the water flower blooming gloriously for the third time. Seeing the scene in front of my eyes, I can only smile.

The final decision… has been made.

The dagger rolls on the wet ground and slowly disappears into tiny bits of blue light.

The Crusader is leaning on his "other self," leaving his arm free and relaxed against the other's waist.

The former "hidden truth," in response, is wrapping his arm around his "other self"'s neck, neglecting the wound on the other's shoulder and the fact that one of his shoulders is injured as well.

People's happiness is often awakened by something, right?

The truth's happiness is something that comes out itself.

Without a reason, and without a meaning…

It wakes up, as if wanting to welcome its reawakening with everything.

It's like both of them has been ready for this embrace for a long time.

They've realized what they've lost, and that's led them to finding it.

Their confusion, the supposed conflict between "hidden" things and "exposed" things… Everything is left behind.

From now on, they'll be able to feel the life they've been craving to feel ever since they could feel the world.

"It's been a long time since we last felt so… united, right?" Murmured the Crusader, unconsciously letting me hear it clearly. For a moment my consciousness leads me to believing that they are truly each other's reflections. That's right… Descending from one single body, they're creations of a, biologically, "binary fission," so it's not strange at all that they dramatically resemble each other. It's just that they're not animals, or any kind of normal living beings, but the two forms of the truth.

At first I thought they were the complete opposite of each other, one kind and convivial, while the other cruel and heartless.

Slowly and gradually, reality was revealed, and I came to realize that they're the same.

With no will and no goal to live for, they're forced to exist in this chaotic world.

Only they can know how much of a mess this world is.

"It's you who's being too soft," replies LAVI patting his "other self"'s head like an older brother comforting his younger sibling. Looking at me who's walking towards them, he flashes a smile that largely resembles that of the Crusader. "What kind of friend are you that has made him so much of a human?"

I chuckle when the Crusader's twin is knocked on the head by the playful redhead himself. "So what kind of being are you that was trying to annihilate what we're supposed to protect?" While they're laughing together delightfully, I turn around and notice the Hunter walking behind me, no longer fighting against any white figure.

Wait, so what about those figures…?

"They were finished right after these two completed their, what should I call it, 'criticism'," the Hunter answers as if he could read the question written on my face. "Like I really enjoyed their quarrel… But still, thanks to that, I was able to escape from those disgusting creatures."

So that's it… Because of the Crusader's remark about him, the former "hidden truth" was distracted from his other targets simply by disappointment. If I'm right, so was the Crusader himself after listening to his twin's criticism on him. If only I knew how seriously emotions could affect on something, even the truth…

Maybe "emotion" is the most widely applied concept in this endless space.

The twins look like they're having a really good time together. I have never seen the former "hidden truth"'s smiling face, and neither have I seen the Crusader look this bright. It looks like they've already found what they've been missing in each other, or maybe what each of them has been searching for is actually the other himself. It's simple to understand, because they're halves of the truth, and to complete their two-piece puzzle, they should set off to find the other missing piece namely "each other."

If they've been lost for such a long time…

This is the first time ever they've experienced the feeling of being found.

Just after a single second, I realize a fact that I think it's rather easy to notice.

I must say that _neither_ of them is the personification of the truth.

Perhaps they've also realized it, too.

It's good, since if they do, there will be no more conflict between them.

The truth is already a whole that can never be changed, so no matter what, every single piece of the truth must be united and in harmony.

And although they said that they're the opposite of each other, there are so many things that they both have.

I don't think I should say that fact out loud. Still, receiving simultaneous glances and smiles from the twins somewhat cheers me up. I know that thanks to this incident, I've realized so many simple things that's precious to us, and I've also learnt to cherish what we barely notice. I learn that things that we despise can turn into what we realize we can love, and what we rely on to live isn't just air, food and water.

I learn that unlike what many people have said, there are nothing more precious than space, Fate and the truth.

"Anyway…" LAVI glances at his look-alike with a glint of humor in his eyes. "So after all of those pointless conflicts… What have I become to you?"

The Crusader also glances at his twin with a rather amused smile. Both my redheaded friend and his "other self" enjoy pulling out topics out of a whim, even if they're meaningless. "Judging your appearance, your way of acting and such, I can conclude…" He throws his right arm over the other's shoulders. "It's simple. You're my twin, because you share most of your characteristics with me!"

Looking at the Crusader's twin, who seems to be faking glares at his newfound "brother," I have to hug my stomach to prevent it from blowing up by my uncontrollable laughter. Well, the childish Lavi is back, and here comes his new twin "brother." If that means I have to be LAVI's tour guide and show him around that mall again, with his "brother" around this time…

I'm going to have tons of fun, with no way out.

With his "brother"'s arm still around his neck, the "younger" twin – I wonder if this sibling-distinguishing sense of mine is right – directs a gentle smile at his "brother." "Think so yourself. But do you want to know what you have become to me?"

I smile, because I know the answer.

As if they can read each other's minds, the Crusader leans slightly closer, although this movement kind of hurts his injured leg, so as to let his twin whisper something into his ear. It's a short and probably summarized sentence, but, you know, just a limited number of words is enough to change one's emotions. The Crusader lingers right at his spot for just a short moment before a bright smile blooms on his face, and he eventually lets go of his twin "brother," who also offers a smile in response. That sentence might mean a lot to both of them, just like the Crusader's former proclamation that he's found a new "brother." Like the joy of finally having a family…

Their happiness has become the most precious thing they could ever have.

"Going already?" I ask the Crusader's twin, who's walking away planning to take a shortcut on the rooftops. The Crusader just stands at his place gazing at us silently with a smile, while it seems that the Hunter has nothing else to say. It's still long until the time to say good-bye arrives, and I'll never use that word and anything related to it until I feel that I have to. We always say so, although knowing that we'll meet again someday, so it's supposed to be an unnecessary word that we only use to separate ourselves from each other.

Only knowing that they're going is enough.

Where they go doesn't matter anymore, as long as they can have happiness and satisfaction to carry along.

The redheaded twin turns back at me with a small smile. Like wanting to tell me among his luggage there is already happiness, he keeps walking forwards without a word, only waving back at us. Gazing at him wordlessly until his figure blends with the dark color of the clouds, I quickly notice footsteps towards my right side that certainly only belong to the Crusader.

"Have any idea where he's going?" I'm not sure of the reason why I ask this question. I know that I'm kind of a pessimist and a dork who isn't often very sure of what he speaks, but that doesn't mean I can't comprehend anything from my life experience. "He owes you an arm and a leg, you know. Literally."

The Crusader stops next to me, a corner of his lips twitching slightly at my unconscious joke. It seems he isn't hurt anymore, or he's ignoring his own pain because of the overwhelming happiness. Letting one's confusion go is like throwing a really large rock one's been carrying during his or her mountain climb away. It's so great to know that from now on, neither of them will have to be confused by the reason of their "emptiness" anymore. The truth is always hollow, if my conscious is right, and that fact can never be changed. Lady Fate has already decided, and nothing can change her mind. Only if she did have a brain…

"What did he whisper to you?"

They're twins, but somehow I feel so strange about the similarity in their absent smiles. Usually positive people prefer to use the term "a half-full glass," but in this case, I'd like to say that both of them are "half-empty." It's not because I'm more like a pessimist, but because even the Hunter see them as such. Their small and meaningful smiles are unlike any other smile I've seen before, simply because they contain everything in them. Happiness, sadness, annoyance, depression… I still can't believe that smiles, which are supposed to only represent joy and excitement, can turn into an oracle of emotions that the redheaded twins possess.

It's nothing special to them, though.

Because they are not just ordinary by any mean.

He only stares absent-mindedly into the space that's perhaps still himself. It's possibly something that has him thinking a lot, or even something that holds his real meaning of existence. No matter what it is, it's still something that makes him happy, and that also cheers me up as well. These days have been quite gloomy to me, so just a glimpse of happiness can make my heart flutter like feathers.

I look at him, unable to think of any other thing to say.

No matter how much confusion and disappointment lays between all of us, we all have a destination to head to.

Because everything, even the truth, has a goal to set off for.

Perhaps… The Crusader's goal isn't defeating his "other half," since he once told me that he actually dislikes fighting.

Maybe his true goal is nothing, but he exists with a wish.

He wished for the truth to be reunited.

And he's succeeded.

"Let's tell us when we all get home."

---

"_You mean everything."_

---

_The butterfly spread its black and orange wings courageously and started lifting itself from where it'd been staying for such a long time._

_It kept soaring above the rippled water, gazing at its newfound reflection of actively flapping wings that resembled jewels attached to pieces of black silk._

_It flew to the dragonfly's place and faced its new fellow for a brief moment before flying away, leaving the dragonfly gazing silently at the leaving shadow of black and orange._

---

_It was a story of a very, very long time ago._

_How old it was, nobody ever cared._

_Simply because, as if it'd never existed, it was forgotten._

_It was about a wise and ambitious sorcerer whose one and only desire was to create the perfect personification of "reality."_

_To him, it was certainly the best creation he'd ever been able to make, as a Doll Master who'd never been satisfied with any of his previous creations._

_A perfect doll, implanted with a soul, which was about to recognize its existence in this cruel and mortal world._

_However, it was because of his ideas of perfectionism that his doll, out of a whim, split itself into two, one known as the "hidden truth," which escaped from the dark and gloomy laboratory and took various forms of living creatures in order to learn its most suitable "form" to exist, and the other the "exposed truth," which remained in the place where it'd been created as only an empty shell with only one form of existence._

_Grieved and depressed, the sorcerer decided to cherish the faithful "exposed truth" that'd continued to stay by his side even with half of his purpose for living gone._

_Only did he not realize a doll was only the "coil." With only a soul, it could never truly "think" and "remember." _

_To say it in short, a doll with only a soul wasn't capable of living._

_Nonetheless, he let it be, and named his "perfect" creation a "Crusader."_

_This Crusader, who took no name for himself, stayed by his master like a faithful pet, and helped him out whenever needed. However, the Crusader, like a living creature which'd lost its meaning of life, had no will, or even just mere wishes and dreams, of his own. He only acted like a robot programmed to understand its master's orders, but in truth he had no thought and memory of his actual experiences, and no feeling about his surroundings and himself. _

_That was why the sorcerer couldn't feel satisfied about his supposed-to-be-perfect creation._

_One fateful night, the Crusader, by accident, met the "hidden truth," which was also wandering around in the form of a black dog with gleaming red eyes._

_Likely by instinct, the Crusader attacked the dog._

_Although he had no will nor thought, and he couldn't actually remember the lessons of sorcery that his master had once taught him, he still fought._

_That was the first time the fascinating dagger known as "Valstyg Friga" had ever been seen and named._

_In that fight, the Crusader lost._

_It wasn't because he wasn't strong enough._

_The sorcerer brought the marred shell back to his laboratory and refilled it with the life energy he'd used to make it awake, still oblivious to his one and only mistake._

_Everything revived from its close encounter to Death gained the ability to obtain the perception of anything not included in "life."_

_The next Crusader was equipped with such power and the Valstyg Friga, which was kept by the sorcerer who was aware of the threatening presence of the "hidden truth."_

_His purposes of existence – it didn't deserve to be called a "life" – were to make his master feel satisfied about his achievement and, unconsciously, to annihilate the "hidden truth," which was going around with a fake identity of "Deception."_

_Hiding the truth was the definition of "Deception," right?_

_Every Crusader existed only to destroy that fact. And every of them failed, one by one._

_However, the sorcerer still didn't realize his one and only mistake._

_Each time a Crusader failed, he just brought the broken body back to fix it and refill it with the life energy that he collected from various unknown sources._

_He didn't realize his one and only mistake until his 49__th__ Crusader was acknowledged by "life."_

_The sorcerer realized he'd left so many things behind. Thoughts, creativity, memories, impression, emotions… He'd left them out of his creation, which was modelled to be the personification of "reality."_

_He'd forgotten that those precious things also existed in "reality," along with what he'd included in his creation, namely "strength," "appearance," and "cleverness."_

_He made his 49__th__ creation a Crusader with memories, thoughts and feelings._

_And that was perhaps the only time he'd felt so satisfied and proud of himself._

_The Crusader, to his expectations, was incredibly strong, in both physical and magical terms. Because he had a second, unacknowledged pair of invisible eyes set in the sky, he could see everything that was going on in the mortal world without the need to actually be in that place to witness the events. Perhaps, it was because he was the space in which everything existed that he could know everything that had been concurred and discovered, being the "exposed truth" with was supposed to be oblivious to what the "hidden truth" knew. To put it simple, they were oblivious to what each other knew, being separated halves of the whole "reality."_

_That was why the redhead, with his thoughts and emotions, felt "incomplete" every time, and always questioned the reason for his feelings of "emptiness." He loved his master dearly and accomplished everything his master ordered so as to please him, but at the same time he always felt perplexed about his existence. He knew that with thoughts, memories and feelings, and of course a beating heart, he was supposed to feel alive, but because his presence was always omitted from his own overlooking view, he could never "see" that he was existing. Like he was living to others, including his master, but he was also dead to himself and his own view._

_That thought didn't really deter the sorcerer's satisfaction about his perfect and final creation, but it did make him upset about not being able to help the Crusader recognize his own life. Even with the strongest sorcery that anyone could achieve, he could never insert the faintest hint of the Crusader's presence in his own view. The only thing he could do was watching the redhead wondering and wondering everyday, helping the redhead with his works, taking care of him after each of the numerous encounters with their one and only enemy, and cherishing him like his own son._

_He once told the redhead that he was different from the previous forty-eight Crusaders, which made him the perfect creation that he was seeking for. But he could never have a chance to explain what he meant before leaving the redhead in that abandoned mansion._

_The night before the fateful parting, he had a dream about his Death._

_Like the prophecy'd said, he died right in the evening of the day he released the final Crusader from his possession._

_If returning his immortality to Fate meant leaving his Crusader behind to deal with his own confusion, then he was a real coward._

_Before letting everything go, he charmed his own soul so that it'd come to the unnamed land where nothing existed instead of Heaven or Hell._

_He knew that even if he'd stayed, he wouldn't have been able to help the Crusader anything, so he'd chosen to come to the end of himself._

_That was why everything about him was thrown to oblivion._

_The Crusader, left behind with only confusion and the sole purpose of pursuing "Deception," stayed in the abandoned mansion observing life every moment of his existence, waiting for a chance to meet the one capable of being his Contractor to let him feel the life outside his box._

_Perhaps, he thought every time the topic was dug out from his complex mind, that person would show him the reason for his existence, and why he was so special to his master._

_It's become a story of a very, very long time ago…_

_---_

_The butterfly kept flying away from the rippled water, from the place where it wasn't supposed to belong to, from its own fake reflection._

_The butterfly kept flying to the place where it thought would be the sky._

_As if it'd realized it must fly instead of floating, and the place it truly belonged to was the imaginary sky it'd been searching for for such a long time, it kept on flying, although knowing it could die from exhaustion and its own bravery._

_Strangely, it'd finally reached its sky. _

* * *

 **Epilogue ******

* * *

I rarely whistle, but I am right now. The café manager has accepted my application for the job, and most of all his benignancy was great enough so that I was allowed to work from five to nine in the evening with Wednesday and Friday off. He might've read my resumé so as to know I'm still a high school student, and maybe that has given him some benevolence. A waiter who claimed himself to have been working there for three years told me that there was even a whole week off in the New Year's holiday, but I might consider that later.

I have been thinking that my father's job as a cardiologist is enough for my intuition, but I don't want to rely on him all the time. Especially from my experience with the "beings of the truth," I've gained more independence for myself. They can deal with things alone, so why can't I? I'm going to prove that I'm not as weak as they think. Personally, I don't like people telling me that I'm weak. I know I am, and every people has their own weaknesses, so it's not that right to criticize others.

The kendouka's reason to befriend (really?) me was because the demons who tried to kill me, but even after those incidents we can still talk to each other as friends. I know that I've been denying it, but I sure can ignore those times we get ourselves into meaningless quarrels and think of him as a good friend of mine. Speaking of which, I might spare a visit at his shrine this weekend, since I haven't been there for perhaps as long as two months. I'm just sorry that I missed the sakura blossoms at the shrine…

My instinct tells me that someone's watching me, and for an unknown reason I turn my head to the opposite side of the street. Even with loads of people passing like an endless ocean, I can still spot the familiar crimson hair and a single eye looking directly at me. The redhead is leaning casually on a wall of a coffee shop, still with his black outfit and a half-mask covering the right side of his face. Nobody pays attention to him, as if he was invisible, but I can see him clearly and undoubtedly, like I'm the only one who can see the truth that no one knows about. I wonder if that's really the Crusader standing there or if it's his brother playing a trick on me, but no matter which one he is I'm still delighted to see him again. It has already been three months since the last battle, and a few days after that neither of them was seen. I've developed a silly thought that both of them had a "limit" of existence, and after that "limit" ended they'd disappear. It's just too… unreal, isn't it, when existence has no limit to itself?

We look at each other for a while, and the redhead's lips curve into a confident smile. Humans can't see as far as I can, I was told that by a priest who witnessed me spotting a striped cat in a grassy bush just by a glance. I wonder what his smile is about, a wish of good luck or just a normal "Hello" from afar. Or perhaps he's just reminding me about that Häagen-Dazs that I owed him. He might've known about my new job and maybe he's congratulating me, but he's supposed to be more complicated than that, isn't he? Or perhaps that is…

He pushes off and starts to blend into the crowd. I take a step forward and is about to call him when I notice that he has disappeared. No words were spoken out loud; we were just looking at each other like strangers. He's familiar, yet still a stranger. But I'm sure that I will meet this stranger again and again, as long as I can still feel the truth.

Also smiling, I continue walking slowly to my house.

It seems like… The truth is so curious that it can still exist even with the wounds it has to bear.

* * *

"_No matter what the consequences are, it's always the truth that is hurt the most."_

* * *

_**~ Owari ~**_

* * *

Here are some trivia about this fic:

1. The "Death Perception Psychokinesis" is a simulation of the "Mystic Eyes of Death Perception" possessed by Shiki Ryougi (Kara no Kyoukai).

2. The "Spiral Contradiction" is like the ability to bend things of Fujino Asagami (Kara no Kyoukai 3rd chapter).

3. Lavi's dagger, Valstyg Friga, is actually the minimized version of Bazett Fraga McRemiz's Fragarach (Fate/Hollow Ataraxia).

4. Lavi's "White Serenity" is the main reason for his right eye to be silver-white.

5. The two cats that Lavi grabbed from the machine are the simulations of the two "yin" and "yang" kitties that SHIKI (Kara no Kyoukai 2nd chapter) won from the same game on "his" first date with Mikiya Kokutou.

6. The name of the tower is based on the name of the main antagonist of Kara no Kyoukai 1st chapter, Kirie Fujyou.

7. The titles of the parts are some of the songs by Kalafina.

Hope you enjoy the fic!

Moon-Dash


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